


For Blood and Wine Are Red

by skadren



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Pining, Post-Canon, Unreliable Narrator, cloud spirals first though, im calling it s.s. valenstrifesodos, mutual recovery from past relationships, new ship incoming, no i am not taking constructive criticism on that name, self-neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skadren/pseuds/skadren
Summary: Less than a year after the events of Dirge of Cerberus, there are rumors of a strange SOLDIER roaming the Midgar ruins. Reeve sends Cloud and Vincent to investigate.
Relationships: Cloud Strife/Vincent Valentine, Genesis Rhapsodos/Cloud Strife, Genesis Rhapsodos/Cloud Strife/Vincent Valentine, Genesis Rhapsodos/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 106
Kudos: 540





	1. wine

**Author's Note:**

> to all of you who are reading any of my other stuff, sorry for vanishing for like 2 months, school came in and murdered my motivation to exist,
> 
> as compensation, this fic is technically complete and just needs a bit more proofreading! i'll try to post once a week but feel free to kick me on my [tumblr](https://skadren.tumblr.com/) if i forget
> 
> title and poem excerpts taken from "the ballad of reading gaol" by oscar wilde. genesis's more melodramatic quotes taken from shakespeare + loveless.

_He did not wear his scarlet coat,  
_ _For blood and wine are red,  
_ _And blood and wine were on his hands  
_ _When they found him with the dead,  
_ _The poor dead woman whom he loved,  
_ _And murdered in her bed._

-

Cloud flinches at the swirl of black feathers in the air. Behind him, carefully hidden in the alcove of the nearest shattered building, his shadow has noticed too. Vincent's alert peaks.

But the presence is different from anything else Cloud has ever felt before—not all sharp and piercing and overwhelming static, like Sephiroth had been _(and still is,_ some traitorous part of Cloud's mind whispers), but not nearly as muted and dull and lifeless as Cloud has come to learn all ex-SOLDIERS are. Instead, it's a strange in-between of the two, along with something _other,_ something that reminds Cloud a bit of Vincent, actually, the purer taste of Lifestream and the earthy whine of WEAPON.

Cloud cocks his head. He's never come across anyone quite like Vincent before. And though Vincent had once mentioned he’d been able to feel Cloud as well, his description had been brief and unrevealing; Cloud, naturally, has never been able to sense himself. So he can't use his own presence as a standard for comparison.

It's definitely not Sephiroth, though. That, at least, has Cloud relaxing minutely, even as he remains alert and wary of the stranger perched on the rooftops above him.

At Cloud's actions, Vincent relaxes as well. He's not nearly as sensitive to varying levels of J-cells as Cloud is; he's often told Cloud that Chaos is indiscriminate with his disgust towards their slimy, crawling sensation.

(Once, Cloud had asked if his own presence caused Chaos, and by default Vincent, any such disgust.

Vincent had been silent for a long moment. Then he'd replied, "No. You are different."

He hadn't elaborated.)

Cloud stares up at the stranger, silhouetted black in bright sunlight, outstretched wing casting long, dark shadows on the ground and across Cloud's face. The stranger stares back.

The wing's on the wrong side, Cloud absently notes.

Finally, the man says, "I've heard talk of how the great, villainous Sephiroth had been defeated— _twice,_ no less—by a lone blond ex-SOLDIER."

He pauses loudly, a prompt for Cloud to respond, but Cloud just waits patiently for him to get to his point.

"A difficult audience," the man murmurs, then raises his voice to the same grandiose levels it had been before, saying, "Well? Are the grand tales true or not?"

Cloud sighs. So it's one of _those_ people. "Well," he says quietly, wearily, "what do you think?"

“Well, _I,_ for one,” the man says, full of self-importance, “think there are one too many holes in this story of yours."

"Not my story," Cloud mutters. His words must be audible to someone as mako-enhanced as this stranger, but the man plows on like the dramatic bastard Cloud can already tell he is.

"First of all, Sephiroth is not one to be single-handedly defeated by _anyone,_ much less a nameless, faceless nobody. Even if you were in SOLDIER. The idea is simply ludicrous.” He sniffs and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Second of all, I’d recall if you’d been SOLDIER. But I assure you…”

With a single flap of his wing, the man lands lightly in front of Cloud, revealing sun-gilded auburn hair and glittering gray-green eyes. Still hidden in the shadows, Vincent tenses, Cerberus already drawn. Cloud stays him with a silent gesture behind his back.

As the stranger stalks closer, a feline, predatory grace to his stride, Cloud takes in the tattered wine-colored leather coat, the worn black SOLDIER uniform underneath, the gleaming rapier hanging at his side. This man must have been high up in SOLDIER, for him to call out to Cloud’s senses like this; speaking of which, hadn’t one of the Firsts’ fanclubs had something to do with red leather—?

Once close enough, slowly, casually, the man trails a single single red-gloved finger down Cloud’s jaw, tilting his face upwards. “There never was anyone who looked quite like… _you_ in our program. Believe me, I would remember.”

Cloud feels the corners of his mouth drag down at the reminder that even now, he’s too small, too _scrawny_ to belong in the leagues of the tall, strongly-built men that make up SOLDIER. Even Kunsel, one of the more strategically-minded and materia-focused of all the ex-SOLDIERs working for the WRO, stands nearly half a foot taller than Cloud, and is broader about the shoulders despite only wielding one of the WRO’s standard-issue swords.

He takes a single step back, withdrawing from the man’s grasp. “It took all of AVALANCHE working together to take Sephiroth down. And I never was in SOLDIER,” he answers cautiously, then scans the man once more. Something about him seems—familiar. “Who are you anyways?”

Something in the man’s eyes burns at that, a turquoise-lit fire. “Oh, I see,” he practically purrs. “We’re playing this kind of game now.”

Cloud’s mouth tugs down further in confusion. A game—?

“Very well, little mouse.” A sly grin creeps its way across the man’s face. “Shall we play?”

Then there's a sword whistling through the space where Cloud's head had been mere milliseconds before. Cloud takes a series of quick steps back, twisting and turning as he nimbly dodges each swipe. He scowls. He hadn’t come here wanting to fight when the WRO had asked him for help on this mission. After all, the mysterious ex-SOLDIER they’d wanted him to track down hasn’t hurt anyone yet.

He is kind of an asshole, though.

“Why are you running, little mouse?” the man croons, matching Cloud step for step as he stalks him across the crumbling ground. “Surely you didn’t defeat Sephiroth with such petty tricks. Come, draw your sword. You came here to investigate for your little charity organization, didn’t you? I’ll give you an easy wager. A victory in exchange for information.”

His next assault, swift and ferocious, ends with a sharp thrust that has Cloud bounding backwards in a long leap, landing in a crouch on the remains of a nearby building. A whistling overhead prompts him to look up hastily, barely drawing Tsurugi in time to prevent a gruesome decapitation.

Pressing down above him, the man smirks. “It seems you’ve been trapped, little mouse.” He draws a hand across the blade of his sword, and to Cloud’s surprise, it lights up with sigils of glowing fire from within.

Cloud throws the man back hastily, but not before the air around him sears white-hot, scorching his hair and clothes. His right arm suddenly feels raw and blistered, too-tight skin stretched and cracked painfully over his muscles. Blood trickles sluggishly down his arm when he shifts it. Wrinkling his nose at the scent of burnt leather and flesh, Cloud regards the stranger with a new light.

(It’s been a long time since anything has injured Cloud like this.)

He doesn’t recall much about SOLDIER Firsts, but he does know that even Sephiroth had relied more on his sword than magic before he’d fallen into the Lifestream. But now that Cloud knows how dangerous this man can be, it’s better to take him down as quickly as possible. Fire and explosions don’t mix well with Midgar’s ruins, as precariously balanced and fragile as much of its structures are.

So he shifts his footing, then his grip on Tsurugi, covertly flipping one of its latches.

Wing extended, hovering several meters away, the stranger’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Finally decided to take this encounter seriously, have you, little—”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Cloud is upon him. To his credit, he recovers quickly, bringing his rapier up in time to block Cloud’s first series of strikes. Their blades lock.

The man’s eyes narrow in something almost like disappointment. “Is that really all the so-called Hero of the Dawn, Healer of Worlds has to—”

In the next moment, Cloud splits Tsurugi, twisting the rapier away with one sword, just barely digging into the man’s throat with the other.

The man’s sword clatters to the ground. A trickle of red winds its way down his pale neck. From this close, his sharp inhale is clearly audible, pupils dilated in animalistic _fear-panic-terror._

For a few extended beats, they stare at each other, breathing harshly. With each breath, the strange glint in the man’s eyes ebbs away, leaving something more settled, and Cloud withdraws his sword carefully. 

“Well?” he asks.

For once, the man seems robbed of his fancy words. “ … What?”

“Did you get what you came here for?”

The man ponders him for a moment, then scoffs. “For now, I suppose.” He turns, then stretches out his wing with a flapping _whoosh._

Cloud frowns. “Wait.”

The man turns back to regard him, raising an elegant brow. “What is it, Hero?”

“I won the game,” Cloud says, a tad hesitantly. It _had_ been all a game to him, hadn’t it?

A pause, then a curt nod. “Very well. Let it not be said that I am not a man of my word. What is it you wish to know?” For a moment, Cloud catches something like wariness flash across the man’s face.

The corner of Cloud’s mouth quirks up. “Just your name.”

“ … You really don’t know, do you.”

Cloud tilts his head. “Should I?”

The man sniffs and turns away again. “‘Tis no matter. You may call me Genesis—Genesis Rhapsodos. Remember it well, Hero.”

Then he is gone in a flurry of black feathers.

A beat, then Vincent rests a hand on Cloud’s uninjured shoulder. Neither of them bring up the idea of pursuit. Instead, all Vincent says is, “He will return.”

Cloud dips his head in agreement. “That’s the point.”

“You are wounded,” Vincent says. “Let’s go home.”

Cloud smiles. “Okay,” he says, “let’s go home.”

-

Vincent’s hands are firm but gentle as he bandages Cloud’s arm. There isn’t much point; the cracked, blistering burn is already gone, erased by Cloud’s enhanced healing and a Restore materia, leaving the skin tender and pink but whole. But Cloud doesn’t fight it. He knows Vincent will insist regardless.

When Vincent finishes, his hands linger just a tad too long, scarlet eyes unreadable. His fingers brush against Cloud’s bandages just once as he draws away. Intentional.

“Thanks,” Cloud says.

Vincent nods, wordless, then stands. “I will report to Reeve,” he says. “You stay here and rest.”

Cloud flashes him a brief smile, but Vincent has already turned away. Cloud watches the tattered edges of his cape flutter as the man walks out, then huffs a sigh.

Cloud and Vincent exist in a quiet, careful sort of equilibrium. They’ve lived together ever since Vincent defeated Omega and came back to Edge. Vincent's never mentioned where he’d been living before, and they’d ended up briefly sharing space in Cloud’s cramped office-slash-bedroom in Seventh Heaven before Tifa had kicked them both out to find an apartment to permanently stay in.

Cloud’s been drawn to Vincent’s quiet understanding, simple companionship, and dark, mysterious countenance ever since they first met, and the attraction has only grown stronger as they’ve grown closer. Sometimes, Cloud almost thinks that Vincent returns his glances, soft and warm and lingering. But he also sees the way the stoic man seems to withdraw when they’re getting along a little too well—when Vincent lets one too many smiles slip, when a genuine laugh escapes, when there are mere inches of space between their faces and Cloud’s eyes linger for too long on his lips. Whenever they get too close.

And Cloud understands; this is Vincent’s way of gently telling him no without words. Vincent’s lost a love in Lucrecia, after all; he still visits her cave regularly throughout the year. Holes in the heart take time to heal; what he needs now is a friend, not a lovelorn admirer. And if Vincent isn’t ready for a romantic partner now, isn’t ready _ever…_

Well, this equilibrium is nice. It’s calm, and undemanding, and comfortable. And even though Cloud aches sometimes to take Vincent’s hand, to press a kiss to the corner of his unsmiling lips, to tuck his head close against his cloak, he wouldn’t trade what they have now for the world.

 _I’m happy like this,_ he tells himself, running his fingers over the white bandages wrapped around his arm, and he almost believes it.

-

“Genesis Rhapsodos,” Reeve says slowly, folding his hands over his mouth in thought. “Correct?”

“You know him?” Cloud asks.

“I know of him, yes,” Reeve says. “I never met him personally, but he was a SOLDIER First, like you suspected. You could even say he was one of ShinRa’s strongest, second only to Sephiroth. His only other equal at the time was Angeal Hewley.” When Cloud doesn’t outwardly react, he clarifies gently, “Zack Fair’s mentor.”

Cloud shifts uncomfortably. “Oh.”

Thankfully, Reeve moves on quickly. “After Vincent gave me the initial report yesterday, I had some people compile as much information on him as they could from the old databases.” He flips open the thin file sitting on his desk. “These files are the result.”

Cloud blinks. “That’s not a lot.”

“Indeed,” Reeve says grimly. “And most of it… isn’t good. Genesis and Angeal were both part of an experiment called Project G, very similar to Project S—which as you know resulted in Sephiroth—but under a different head scientist, Professor Hollander. For better or worse, they suffered a different fate from their competitor, and both were ultimately afflicted with a condition called genetic degradation, presumably as a result of their different—perhaps more unstable?—J-cell and mako treatments. Genesis went mad and deserted, and Angeal soon followed his childhood friend. Ultimately, they were declared KIA and… eliminated by ShinRa as a cover-up.”

Reeve grimaces, but Cloud doesn’t bat an eye, well acquainted with ShinRa’s so-called cover-up strategies. “So ShinRa sucks at taking out their trash,” Cloud says, crossing his arms. “That’s not news.”

“Yes. Well.” Reeve coughs awkwardly. “Things become a little more troubling when you remember the reports we received on the mysterious ‘G’, considering the hand he had in the creation of Deepground. We’d had no other clues on his identity other than that he was supposedly a very powerful rogue SOLDIER, but now that we know Genesis is alive…”

“You think it’s him?”

“The way the evidence lines up makes it seem extremely likely,” Reeve answers carefully. “His initials, his position as second only to Sephiroth, the rumors of his elimination by another SOLDIER First, the way ShinRa tried to destroy all records on him—these all match with the cryptic reports Vincent found when fighting Deepground.”

Cloud nods. Vincent’s told him about those reports. But… “He seemed a lot more interested in what happened with Sephiroth,” Cloud says. “Didn’t say a thing about Deepground.”

“Do you think it’s possible he didn’t ask because he already knows?”

“ … I guess,” Cloud says slowly. “But didn’t those reports say he was sleeping underneath Midgar or something? He was a damn cocky bastard about it, but if I had to say, he seemed… lost. Confused.”

“Hmmm,” Reeve says, thoughtful.

“He bargained for information… or something like that.” Cloud still isn’t sure what that had been, really. “And he hasn’t hurt anyone yet. Maybe once he catches up on what he missed he’ll just… leave?” After all, Cloud can live in hope, right?

Reeve nods, looking relieved. “I’m glad you think the peaceful approach is appropriate. Who knows how many more apocalyptic fights Midgar can take?”

Cloud snorts. Reeve always uses this kind of roundabout conversation to prod Cloud into sharing his opinions rather than just asking outright, but at least he always presents everything they know in a straightforward manner without twisting his words. In a way, Cloud appreciates it. It’s Reeve’s way of making sure Cloud knows all the facts and makes his own judgment without manipulation.

What he doesn’t appreciate is how much weight Reeve places on those judgments. It’s like he’s forgotten exactly how terrible Cloud’s judgment can be.

(Admittedly, though, if Cloud didn’t agree with something the WRO was doing, he could bring the whole building crashing down on them and there would be very little they could do to stop it. Not that he would just on his own. Cloud has even less trust in his own judgment than Reeve should.)

“Regardless,” Reeve says, closing the file again. “Vincent believes Genesis will be back sooner than later.”

“For bargain for more information, yeah. He seems like the type.” When Reeve gives him a questioning look, Cloud clarifies, “Too impatient to wait, but too proud to ask.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, then, won’t we?”

Cloud hums in agreement, then stands to leave. “I’ve got some delivery runs.”

“Right! Sorry to keep you.” Reeve stands as well, walking Cloud to the door. “Stay safe. Oh, and Cloud?”

Cloud tilts his head in askance.

“Do try to win, won’t you?”

Cloud grins, sharp and fierce. “Of course.”

-

True to Vincent’s prediction, Genesis shows up again within the week, hovering menacingly about the WRO’s main headquarters like a dramatic crow and terrorizing the employees with his general presence. Despite receiving Reeve’s message in the early afternoon, Cloud doesn’t get back from his deliveries until nighttime, and Genesis looks delighted at the backdrop the silvery moon provides him as he soars away, coat flapping in the wind as he leads Cloud back into the heart of Midgar.

“‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,’” Genesis says, bold and grand and sweeping when he perches tall and proud on a crumbling roof.

Cloud cocks a questioning brow. “My name isn’t—”

“Same game, my dear Hero,” Genesis declares, drawing his sword. “Same rules.”

Then he pounces.

This battle is longer than the one before; now that he knows Genesis intends no harm—at least for now—Cloud lets things draw out, keeping Tsurugi as a single blade. But it ends similarly, with Genesis flat on his back and Cloud’s sword at his throat.

Genesis stares up at him, then heaves a dramatic sigh. “I yield.”

Cloud straightens with a nod, sliding Tsurugi in place on his back. It’s only now that he realizes that the beginnings of an exhilarated smile have begun to creep onto his face, and he smothers it with some difficulty. He hasn’t fought with someone who can keep up with him in swordfighting for so long—Tifa can for a good while, of course, with her fists, and Vincent with his guns, but a _sword—_

Genesis stands, brushing off his clothing. “Well fought, Hero,” he says. “But mark my words, next time I will—”

“I’m Cloud,” Cloud offers. “Cloud Strife.”

Genesis balks at him. He seems unaccustomed to being interrupted. “I—you… I don’t take pity!” he sputters. “It’s such an unappealing thing.”

Cloud tilts his head. “Pity?”

“As much as it pains me to say, you won.” True to his word, an expression of mild distaste crosses his face. “Therefore, it is I who owe you information, not the other way around.”

Cloud shrugs. “I’m asking you to call me by my name. None of that ‘hero’ bullshit. That’s a favor, isn’t it? I’ll take this favor over information.”

 _Sorry, Reeve,_ he mentally apologizes. But if Genesis calls him _Hero_ in that snide tone of voice one more time, Cloud will kick something. Probably himself.

Again, Genesis’s expression pinches, but this time with something more like confusion, frustration, irritation. “I see,” he says, but Cloud can tell he doesn’t. “Cloud Strife,” he says, slowly, consideringly, as if tasting it in his mouth. He regards Cloud with a new light, full of that strange blend of emotions still. “Very well. Well met, Cloud.”

Cloud blinks. “Nice to meet you too?”

Genesis sniffs. “Good to see you do have at least _some_ manners. But I still owe you a piece of information—this I will not concede on. As I said, I take no pity. No favors.”

“Okay,” Cloud says, puzzled, but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Then… after you deserted ShinRa—” Cloud cuts himself off at the expression of sheer dread that flashes across Genesis’s face. But then—

“What of it?” Genesis says, completely unruffled. Uncaring.

“I…” Cloud frowns, trailing off.

“What were you going to say, _Cloud?”_ Genesis says, eyes narrowing dangerously.

 _No pity. No favors._ _What a proud man,_ Cloud thinks. _But then again, minus the bluster, aren’t I the same?_ “After you deserted ShinRa… tell me something you enjoyed about it.”

Genesis looks completely thrown. “Something I… _enjoyed?”_

“Yeah,” Cloud says firmly. “Not something you regretted, not something you hated. Not something you feared. Something you enjoyed.”

“Those are far outweighed by what I regret, but I… suppose I enjoyed the freedom,” Genesis says, hesitant for the first time. “I had no schedule, no missions, no obligations to anyone other than myself… And the feeling of flying, it was almost like I wasn’t tied down by…” He shuts his eyes, then shakes his head. When he opens them again, his impenetrable walls of arrogance are drawn up once more. “But it no longer matters. Sephiroth is dead, and I am not. Know this, Cloud.” He spreads his dark wing, black feathers blending in with the night around him. “'Even if the morrow is barren of promises… nothing shall forestall my return.'”

And again, he is gone, leaving Cloud with a black feather at his feet and the distant beating of wings.

-

Vincent looks up from his seat on their worn couch as Cloud steps into their apartment, sliding off his boots and leaning Tsurugi carefully against the wall.

“You’re home late,” he observes idly even as he scans Cloud carefully for any signs of injury. It’s a statement of fact rather than an accusation, one of the things Cloud likes in particular about living with Vincent; he never sounds confrontational or disappointed the way Tifa often does when Cloud makes her worry.

 _(Tifa worries because she cares,_ Cloud scolds himself. _Don’t be ungrateful.)_

“Had to deal with Genesis,” Cloud says. “Reeve didn’t tell you?”

“I was aware, yes,” Vincent says.

Cloud gives him a look. Of course he was. Now that they both know what Genesis’s presence specifically feels like, it’s easy for them to tell when he’s nearby.

Vincent folds. “Reeve told me. He believes it is in the WRO’s best interest if I accompany you whenever you go confront Rhapsodos as a safeguard in the case of any deception.”

“I’m guessing you said no?” Vincent hadn’t been waiting for Cloud when he’d arrived, after all.

“His reasoning is sound. However, I doubt you would be much appreciative of it. You’d chafe under a babysitter.”

“That’s true,” Cloud says. But… “It’s fine if it’s you,” slips unbidden from his mouth.

Vincent blinks.

“You’re not a babysitter,” Cloud hastens to clarify. “You’ll notice things I won’t. So… it’s fine.”

Vincent nods slowly. “I… will go if it is convenient, then. But you need not wait for me to catch up with you.”

Cloud nods back, nothing else needing to be said, then makes his way to get ready for bed. There are two bedrooms in their apartment, conjoined by a single bathroom; one is Cloud’s, the other Vincent’s. Vincent’s, though, often goes unused.

(“I’ve slept enough to last a dozen lifetimes,” Vincent had said once, gaze haunted and distant. “And lost enough for thrice that due to my cowardice. I refused to face reality for the longest time; I neither deserve nor desire any rest.”

Cloud had fallen asleep holding him that night. He’d woken up alone, tucked into his bed.)

The front door opens to a single larger room that consists of their tiny kitchenette and their living room space. It might be considered a tad small for two fully-grown men who enjoy their privacy, but Cloud and Vincent are both relatively neat, and usually not at home for the majority of the day anyways. It’s almost something cozy and comfortable to come home to after a day out, especially since there are signs of their cohabitation scattered throughout the apartment—Cloud’s battered leather boots leaning next to the scuffed metal of Vincent’s, still-wet dishes stacked neatly on the drying rack, a basket of unfolded laundry by the couch, Vincent’s cloak and bandanna hung up on the coat rack next to Cloud’s leather jacket.

As a light sleeper, Cloud had been surprised to find that the sound of Vincent puttering around late into the night actually helps him fall asleep, always quiet enough to not be a disturbance and yet audible enough to be reassuring. The physical sensation of his presence, too, creates a feeling of comfort and safety that Cloud knows comes from trusting Vincent with his life. And the idea that Vincent, an ex-Turk, might in return feel secure enough in their home to relax enough to make some noise rather than ghost silently about always has Cloud smiling.

Freshly cleaned and dressed in soft clothes for sleep, Cloud peeks back into the living room. “Good night,” he murmurs. He knows Vincent will hear.

Vincent looks up as he sets Cerberus's triple barrels down, the rest of its parts laid out and freshly gleaming on a cleaning cloth spread out on the coffee table. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, eyes so warm Cloud’s chest aches. “Good night, Cloud. Sleep well.”

Just like every night they go through this routine, Cloud wants to kiss him. And just like every other night, Cloud simply gives Vincent a tiny smile he hopes doesn’t waver before slipping back into his room to sleep, alone.

Alone. Just like every other night.


	2. despair

_He did not wring his hands, as do  
_ _Those witless men who dare  
_ _To try to rear that changeling Hope  
_ _In the cave of black Despair;  
_ _He only looked upon the sun_  
 _And drank the morning air._

-

For the next few weeks, Genesis’s appearances go similarly, so much so that after the first few Vincent no longer feels obligated to follow Cloud to observe their encounters, despite Reeve’s wishes. Even if they’re together when the now-familiar tingling crosses their senses Vincent simply gives Cloud a nod, telling him to go. After Cloud tracks him down, Genesis drags them out to Midgar for a fight that always ends with Cloud as the victor. And each time Genesis loses, the briefest look of sheer trepidation flashes across his face, as if his very fate hangs in balance with the next words that leave Cloud’s mouth.

Maybe it does. Maybe Cloud will ask the wrong question and he will learn something terrible, something he’ll find unforgivable, something the WRO will find unforgivable, and Genesis will have to relive his life as a fugitive on the run all over again. Maybe he will force Genesis to speak of things from his past that he himself finds unforgivable; maybe instead of speaking of them Genesis would rather go against his word and lie. That in and of itself is something a man of his pride might find unforgivable.

So every time Cloud finds himself asking something else. He finds out what Genesis’s favorite color is—the purple of a Banora White, not red as one might assume from the way he dresses. He finds out where Genesis grew up—a small town called Banora. Thanks to ShinRa, it doesn’t exist anymore. He finds out that there was, indeed, a fanclub for Genesis named Red Leather—the other one was named Study Group. And he most definitely finds out about Genesis’s love for plays—LOVELESS is his favorite.

(He doesn’t notice that slowly, gradually, the trepidation stops appearing.)

When Reeve subtly asks Cloud what his verdict is, Cloud’s answer is, “He’s not bad. Just really likes to hear himself talk.”

And Reeve, used to decoding Cloud’s blunt yet unforthcoming statements, doesn’t ask any further.

The first time Cloud asks about Angeal, their routine turns into a reminiscence of the past, Genesis narrating fondly of how he’d grown up as best friends with Angeal despite their difference in status, how he’d leave baskets of dumbapples for Angeal to find despite the boy’s vow to never steal from his friend, how they’d joined ShinRa together, bright-eyed and optimistic and hoping to fight alongside each other in SOLDIER.

“Well, we got our wish,” Genesis says, bitter and sad and tired, and they’d fallen silent, each with their own regrets, before Genesis had flown away.

During their next encounter, Cloud asks of Sephiroth, slow and halting, and Genesis’s look of concern has Cloud smiling faintly.

 _Are you sure,_ Genesis doesn’t say. Cloud hasn’t said much about his past—Genesis gets temperamental when he thinks Cloud is giving him ‘handouts’—but he knows Genesis isn’t blind, and Cloud’s probably let some things slip here and there.

“I asked,” Cloud says. “I want to know what he was like before… Just— _before.”_

“Very well,” Genesis says, nodding primly, and tells of how they’d sneak into the training rooms to throw swords at each others’ heads, how Sephiroth had a bad habit of slicing structures to bits during fights, how he’d tied his hair up into a ponytail before he’d become famous, and still had when doing paperwork or relaxing at home. How he’d grow frustrated if he couldn’t easily master something like he was so often used to doing. How on bad days on the Wutaian front Sephiroth would wash his hands until they were raw and bleeding because he couldn’t get rid of the image of blood, and Genesis and Angeal would have to gently tug him away and bandage them. 

How Genesis had so sorely desired his status as a hero, and how Sephiroth’s own indifference had often driven him near blind with seething resentment.

“But not anymore,” Genesis says, gaze distant.

“What changed?” Cloud asks.

Genesis turns to face him, silent for a long moment. “Many things,” he says eventually. “I no longer envy the fate of heroes.”

In return, Cloud finds himself telling Genesis of how he’d grown up idolizing Sephiroth, how even during the days of Meteorfall he’d never quite been able to discard that image of his hero. He tells through a dry, aching throat, unused to such long speeches, of the strange, undeniable attraction between the two of them, the way every fiber of Cloud’s being had called out for Sephiroth and vice versa, how he’d spent so long hating Sephiroth and above all himself for it, how he’d hated so much he’d tired of it all. How all he feels about Sephiroth now is a heavy, creeping numbness.

And for the first time, Genesis doesn’t take offense at Cloud’s ‘handout’. Instead he just says, “I see. So neither of us are alone in how we seem to never be able to escape the mighty Sephiroth. The heart is quite the fickle thing, isn’t it? Throwing itself at the very one who spurns you most.”

Cloud’s head jerks upward. “The heart—?” If anything, he’d thought that Genesis and _Angeal_ had been—

“Yes,” Genesis says, and his eyes are sad. “The heart. But Sephiroth is dead and gone, and you and I are not. That, at the very least, is something to be celebrated, don’t you think?”

Cloud contemplates, then nods. “Thanks,” he says. “I feel like I understand him better now.”

“No need for thanks,” Genesis scoffs, suddenly back to his normal self. “I only give what is owed, nothing more.”

The day Cloud asks about Zack, though, Genesis gives Cloud the oddest look from his position lying pinned on his back and says, “Zackary Fair?”

“Yeah. Did you know him?” Cloud slings Tsurugi back onto his back before settling on the ground, leaving Genesis free to sit up, but the man remains lying down, staring up at the sky.

“Zackary Fair,” he repeats, almost to himself. “Yes… yes, you could say I knew him. I’d expected you to ask, sooner or later, but…”

For a moment, Cloud fears that this is the question he should not have asked, should never have asked. “You don’t have to say more. You already answered—”

But Genesis shakes his head and says, “No. It’s time I told you. You deserve to know.” He sits up, avoiding meeting Cloud’s curious gaze. “I never spoke to him before I… left ShinRa. Fair was Angeal’s student, and he doted on him like no tomorrow. Angeal would come home each day raving on about some new trick his puppy had learned, how proud he was—it irked me.”

“So… you were jealous.”

Rather than deny it, Genesis just sighs deeply. “Yes. I was envious of how much of Angeal’s attention this hyperactive teenager with no apparent redeeming qualities had captured. So I chose to not interact with him. Not one of my proudest moments, I admit. The first time I spoke to him was when he’d been sent on a mission to Banora to investigate my disappearance, and we only had a few brief encounters after that. But the last time I saw him…” He hesitates, then murmurs, “You will think less of me. I know this, and yet I also know this cannot remain hidden forever.”

“Genesis?” Cloud can’t help but feel concerned.

Genesis whirls to face Cloud, pinning with an intense gaze. “Who was Zack Fair to you, Cloud?”

“Zack was my best friend. The older brother I never had. I never had the chance to get to know him that well, but I can still remember bits and pieces, from when I… we…” Cloud trails off, giving Genesis a cautious look. He’s never mentioned anything about any of his cases of mako poisoning to Genesis, and they’re likely not public knowledge, either, with how carefully Reeve guards the more private details of everything that happened. But Genesis seems to have heard enough.

“I was waiting for Sephiroth, in the reactor,” he says, seemingly non-sequitur. “He was my last hope. But in my madness I lashed out. I wanted him to suffer as I had. I said the wrong things, and as a result?” He laughs bitterly. “As a result, Nibelheim burned.”

Cloud jolts to his feet. His mind whirls, thoughts blurring together into a static haze of white noise. “What…?”

“And yet four years later, I still desperately sought out a cure.” Genesis’s words are almost rushed, as if fighting to escape after being kept secret for so long. He leaps to his feet as well, reaching a hand out to stay Cloud. “I tracked down the last source of Sephiroth’s cells. Zack fought both my copies and myself off several times. And you…” He gives Cloud a strange look, anguish and resignation and regret all mixed together. “I failed to realize at first, but you are the comatose trooper he so vehemently protected, aren’t you?”

Cloud works at his mouth. It’s dry and tastes of bitter ash. “Yeah,” is all he can say, and it falls choked and broken from his lips like stone.

“I… owe Zack Fair a great debt for many things. My life, my pride, my honor as SOLDIER… And even greater are my reparations due. If not for me, perhaps Sephiroth would have never gone mad, Nibelheim never burned. If not for me, perhaps you two would have made your way to Midgar sooner. If not for me, Zack might still be—”

“Stop!” Cloud recoils, voice rough and hard as he shakes his head fervently. He doesn’t want to hear it. “What are you trying to say?”

“I am no saint—the furthest thing from it, to be frank,” Genesis says. “The SOLDIERs who followed my desertion… the people of Banora… Sephiroth and Nibelheim, _Zack—_ the last of Zack’s legacy lies with you, Cloud Strife. My transgressions against both of you are too great to be enumerated. If I am to be judged by anyone, I would have it be you.”

“Me?” Cloud says hoarsely.

“Yes.” And to Cloud’s shock, Genesis kneels before him. “You.”

Cloud stares at Genesis’s bowed head, then down at his own gloved hands, clenched and trembling. Then he punches him with all his not-so-inconsiderable strength, sending Genesis flying hard through the wall of the building behind them.

Despite his humble words, Genesis scrambles to find his footing in the former wall’s debris, swiping at the blood leaking from his now-broken nose with one hand as the other falls automatically to the hilt of his rapier. When Cloud doesn’t make any motions to attack further, though, it drops slowly back down to his side. “Why…?” he asks, watching Cloud warily. “Are you not going to continue?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Cloud says, calm and level. “You’re a dumbass.”

Genesis wipes at his bloodied face again, then raises a brow, looking more like himself since they started the conversation. “Oh, is that so? Do enlighten the rest of the class as to your thoughts, Cloud.”

“So you messed up,” Cloud says, folding his arms. “We all do. At least you know. And you’re sorry for it. It’s in the past; what’s the point of harping on it further?”

Genesis splutters for a bit, looking almost upset that Cloud hasn’t reacted worse. “But—!”

“You got a broken nose out of it,” Cloud says. “What, you want more?”

“No!” Genesis answers automatically. “Well, not— _no,_ exactly, but—but Sephiroth!” He gestures emphatically, for once out of words. “You do not desire vengeance for the hand I played in Sephiroth’s fall from sanity?”

“Sephiroth…” Cloud chews his lip in thought for a moment. “Sephiroth made his own choices. And JENOVA was waiting for him when he did. You can’t claim responsibility for everything he did. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone mad if you weren’t there. Maybe he still would have. But Sephiroth is dead; he can’t make up for the shitty things he did. He probably wouldn’t even want to. But…” Cloud looks up at Genesis. “You still can.”

Genesis makes a disparaging noise. “Doubtful. ‘No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas in incarnadine—’”

“You want to, don’t you?” Cloud insists. “That’s the most important part.”

For a moment, Genesis looks almost hopeful, but he turns away and scoffs, drawing his usual shields up close in the way Cloud’s come to know means he’s afraid of being vulnerable. Afraid of being hurt. “What would you know? Hero of Dawn, Healer of—”

“I can and will punch you again if you call me that,” Cloud threatens, but sobers quickly. “Do you know how Sephiroth got the Black Materia to summon Meteor with?”

Genesis blinks. “A… Black Materia? I was unaware that was an element to the story at all.”

“Figures,” Cloud says with a sigh. “It’s not something the WRO would want the public to know. Well, you can’t summon Meteor without it. And I gave it to him.”

Genesis gapes. “What? How? _Why?”_

Cloud shakes his head. “That’s not important. The point is, I know a bit about having to make up for majorly fucking things up. I’m lucky to have friends to beat it into my head. You… as much of an irritatingly dramatic asshole as you are, you’re also my friend. I…” Cloud trails off, embarrassed.

_I want to help you like they helped me._

“I didn’t expect forgiveness when I resolved to tell you the truth,” Genesis says abruptly. “I never _dreamed_ of it. No, even that is an understatement. The beginnings of the thought simply didn’t cross my mind; I’d almost resigned myself to death. At best, you would look upon me with scorn and hatred in your eyes. But if somehow you can hear all this and yet still call me ‘friend’… I am a selfish man, Cloud Strife.” Suddenly Genesis smirks, cutting and sly, and the usual taunting light is back in his eyes. “I suppose I shall deign to grace you with my presence for just a bit longer.”

“Oh, gods forbid,” Cloud says dryly.

Genesis throws back his head and laughs.

-

The next time Genesis appears, Cloud’s managed to drag Vincent onto a grocery run with him. The ex-SOLDIER perches neatly on the arch of the streetlight right above a fruit stand, raining black feathers down on the array of tangerines Cloud is inspecting, and the vendor sputters something about health regulations.

Vincent makes a low, indecipherable noise in the back of his throat. “Your shadow is back,” he murmurs.

“I thought you were my shadow,” Cloud says, giving Vincent a tiny smirk. “You got competition?”

Vincent makes another noise, this time mildly disgruntled, and settles lower into his cloak.

“So this man is your shadow from before?” Genesis calls, despite being too far away to have heard their conversation. He somehow manages to sound both casually intrigued and vaguely disinterested at the same time. “He finally shows his face, I see.”

Cloud raises his brows at Vincent. The man scoffs and looks away, but Cloud catches the barest glimpse of a pleased smile in the corner of his mouth, and feels his own turn up despite himself.

There’s a loud flapping and a gush of wind as Genesis alights from his perch to land on the roof of the nearest building, giving Cloud an expectant look.

Cloud doesn’t budge.

“Cloud,” Vincent says, tensing when irritation crosses Genesis’s face.

Cloud shakes his head. “Don’t worry.”

Vincent releases the barest of resigned sighs before settling back on his heels.

“What is the meaning of this?” Genesis demands, loud enough that people across the street begin pointing and staring. “Would you rather we fought here and now, Cloud?”

Cloud groans. “Are you ever not a melodramatic bastard? Get down here already, you’re making a scene.”

Genesis plasters on his best patent offended look but complies nonetheless, swooping down and sending pedestrians scattering as he lands smoothly on his feet. He opens his mouth, probably about to go on another of his monologues, but Cloud shoves their mostly-full bag of groceries into his arms, and his mouth snaps shut. Then he opens it again. “What, exactly, is this for?”

“Oh no,” Cloud says, deadpan. “You caught me in a densely populated area. Guess I can’t fight back or… hostages and stuff. You win.” When Genesis just stares blankly, he adds, “Oh no. You dastardly villain, taking my groceries hostage,” for good measure.

Genesis puffs up in outrage. “Cloud Strife! You mock me!”

“It’s not _mockery,”_ Cloud says as he turns and begins making his way down the street. He shoots Genesis a look over his shoulder when he doesn’t follow. “What, you aren’t coming? Don’t you want your reward for winning?”

Genesis simply balks again. Vincent sweeps past him, purposely clipping him with his shoulder, and Genesis jolts back to attention.

“Wait! Don’t you dare leave without me! _Cloud!”_

-

Tifa, to her credit, doesn't bat an eye when they walk into her bar. Instead, she takes one look at Genesis's still-flummoxed expression, arms laden with groceries, and says, "Go ahead and sit anywhere. I'll get your usual."

"How prompt," Genesis observes as they take a booth in a darkened corner of the bar. "Does your status bring you such good service everywhere?"

Cloud rolls his eyes. "Tifa's a good friend. A former member of AVALANCHE. Anyways, it's the middle of the afternoon. She wouldn't show us preferential treatment otherwise."

"Cloud's identity is an open secret here in Edge," Vincent adds suddenly. "Most know; none speak of it. Cloud prefers it that way." There's an added warning look that screams, _So you'd better not say anything either._

"By the Goddess!" Genesis exclaims, and for a moment, Cloud's almost afraid he's going to go on a tirade about fame and heroism, despite what he said about not wanting it anymore. But all he says is, "My good sir, are you perchance involved in theater?"

Vincent blinks, bewildered. " … No."

Genesis sighs. "What a shame. Your voice is positively sinful. Oh, the number of roles you would fit perfectly are innumerable. In fact—would you be so kind as to repeat this? 'There is no hate, only joy, for you are beloved by the Goddess, Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds.’”

"LOVELESS, is it?" Vincent murmurs. "Act two.”

Genesis looks delighted. "You've studied it before?"

Vincent looks away. "I would not say that, no. My father was… scientifically-minded. He did not approve of his son indulging in such fancies."

Genesis snorts. "Your father sounds like a stiff, dull-minded old codger."

"Yes," Vincent says slowly, mouth curling upwards. "Yes, I suppose he was." After a pause, he says, low and rumbling, “For you are beloved by the Goddess… Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds.”

Genesis whistles, long and impressed. Cloud thinks he might even see a dash of pink across his cheeks; he himself certainly feels warmth in his own as Vincent’s gaze cuts briefly to meet his. The way Vincent caresses the word _beloved,_ the way his eyelids lower and dim his eyes to a hypnotizing scarlet glow, the soulful and reverent tone of his voice—

Cloud’s thoughts are interrupted by the clatter of Tifa setting their drinks down, three identical tumblers of clear amber liquid with carefully cut cubes of ice bobbing gently with the motion.

“I didn’t know what you wanted,” Tifa tells Genesis, “but I figured you’d be fine with what Cloud and Vincent are having.” She sweeps away without waiting for an answer, but the look she shoots Cloud tells him that she expects to be informed of everything before nightfall.

Cloud avoids eye contact, staring down at the ice swirling gently in his drink. “I didn’t know you had a usual,” he says to Vincent. After all, Vincent’s always home at night when he isn't on a mission for the WRO; he doesn’t seem to enjoy drinking much anyways.

But Vincent tucks his chin into his cloak and says, “I… come here often when you are not home at night.”

Cloud blinks. What’s what supposed to mean? “ … Oh.”

Vincent just nods, a single jerk of his head, and burrows in further.

Genesis takes a long sip of his drink as he observes them both with raised brows, then sets it down loudly. “Anyways,” he says. “You coerced me into coming here to speak of my ‘reward’, Cloud?” Somehow, Cloud can physically hear the presence of quotation marks around “reward”.

“Wasn’t coercion,” Cloud grumbles. “But yeah. You won. What do you want to know? I’ll do my best to answer.”

Genesis ponders for a moment. “Deepground,” he finally says. “I’m sure you know of my involvement with their creation by now. But what happened to them, ultimately?”

Cloud hums thoughtfully. They’d been fairly certain, of course, but hearing direct confirmation is always nice. But… “Not Sephiroth?”

Genesis shakes his head. “I’ve gathered enough from both public knowledge and your own statements. To ask any more would be prying. However, I know next to nothing of Deepground’s fate.”

“If you want to hear about Deepground,” Cloud says, “you’d be better off asking Vincent. I wasn’t—Vincent basically did all the work taking them down.”

Genesis turns his full attention to Vincent, but Vincent is busy frowning at Cloud. “I was never informed of why you were unavailable at the time.”

Cloud throws back the rest of his drink, then shrugs as he rises from his seat. “Not important. Looks like I’m not needed here, so I’m gonna go talk to Tifa before she burns a hole into the back of my head with her glare. You catch Genesis up with what happened.”

Vincent looks genuinely troubled for a moment, and Cloud almost regrets brushing him off in such a brusque manner. But the alternative is telling Vincent the truth—Vincent can always tell when Cloud is lying—and that…

Cloud chews his lip nervously once his back is turned, face safely hidden from the pair in the booth. It’s been about half a year since the Deepground incident. Since Cloud was in the hospital. Somehow, he’s managed to persuade Reeve and Tifa to stay silent; he’s fortunate that it’s been long enough that it’s been pushed out of their minds. But Vincent finding out what happened—

Cloud shakes his head. That’s not an option.

-

“So how’d it go?” Cloud asks Vincent as they make their way back to their apartment, the sky a rich velvety purple burnished gold by the setting sun. Thankfully, Tifa’s agreed to house Genesis in Cloud’s old room for the time being. She’s even been kind enough to give him work at Seventh Heaven, though that might be more due to the bar’s growing popularity rather than complete altruism. But even Genesis, clearly displeased to be assigned what he considers commoners’ work, isn’t so proud he would complain in the face of real food and a hot shower.

Vincent looks up, pondering the sky as it deepens to a midnight blue. “It was… nice,” he admits slowly. “He listened to what I had to say, nothing more.”

Cloud raises his eyebrows. From Vincent, that’s practically the highest compliment one can get for conversation. “So you guys were done pretty fast, then.”

“Yes,” Vincent says. “We spent the rest of the time speaking of… literature. Genesis’s passion for plays and poetry is unmatched.” He sounds almost wondering as he says it.

“I see,” Cloud says. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“ … Fun?”

Cloud tilts his head at Vincent even as he fiddles with their locked door. “Didn’t you? It sounds like you did.”

“I… suppose.” Vincent seems rather bewildered. “Yes, I suppose I had fun. I…” He trails off, but Cloud’s sure if he leaves him to his devices, he’ll talk himself into a depressive spiral about how he doesn’t deserve things like _fun._

So Cloud gives Vincent a soft, reassuring smile. “Yeah. I’m glad. You deserve it.”

Cloud finally works the door open and lets them both in, tugging off his boots before padding into the kitchen to put the groceries away. He can feel Vincent hovering behind him as he rifles through the fridge.

“What’s up?” he asks. Vincent likes to hover, yes, but he doesn’t normally hover with _intent_ like this unless he has something he needs to tell Cloud.

Vincent’s silent for a long moment. Then he murmurs, “Lucrecia asked me to read to her often. She was the only one who didn’t find my love for literature odd.”

Cloud sucks in a sharp breath, whirling around. Vincent’s never— _never,_ for as long as Cloud has known him—

But Vincent is already gone.

-

Cloud finds the next few weeks rather dull after returning to his old pre-Genesis routine. It’s almost odd, not being interrupted mid-delivery to go haring after the pompous man at the worst hours. Cloud hadn’t realized how much time he’d spent with Genesis; combined with Reeve’s new hesitance to assign him too many WRO-related errands after the Hospital Incident, he finds himself almost completely caught up with his backlog of deliveries for the first time in months.

In fact, it almost seems like Vincent’s replaced Cloud’s role in playing watchdog, since he’s in Edge more often than Cloud is now. Vincent’s voice had still been a tad wondering when he’d told Cloud how their weekly meetings have evolved to be almost daily, to job hunt and talk about books.

“I’m glad you’re making a new friend,” Cloud had said, ruthlessly trampling the ugly, squirming jealousy beginning to sprout in his chest.

Vincent had given Cloud a long, searching look, and Cloud had worried that Vincent had picked up on his traitorous feelings. But then he’d nodded and said a quiet _thank you,_ and that had been it.

And Cloud is glad that Vincent and Genesis get along so well, he really is. Anyone can see how good they are for each other; Vincent levels out Genesis’s erratic temperament easily, meeting all his passion with even but thoughtful responses, while Genesis knows how to carefully prod Vincent out of his dour moods, even managing to coax smiles with his distractions. And Genesis’s delight with having someone to match wits with in his favored flowery speech is only matched by the contentment in Vincent’s eyes whenever Genesis validates the particularly dramatic things he says. Not to mention that night when Vincent had spoken of Lucrecia—Genesis is helping Vincent heal in ways Cloud has never even managed to touch.

 _Maybe,_ the ugliness in Cloud’s chest whispers, _Genesis will even get Vincent to open up in the way you always wanted to, the way you will never be able to, the way you will never be good enough to._

But Cloud shoves those thoughts far into the back of his mind. For now, Genesis and Vincent are good friends. And if things change, Cloud still has no place to say anything against it. Genesis is lively, brilliant, assertive, witty, a good fighter, handsome… In fact, if not for Vincent, Cloud might even—

Cloud shoves that thought away as well.


	3. sky

_I never saw a man who looked_   
_With such a wistful eye_   
_Upon that little tent of blue_   
_Which prisoners call the sky,_   
_And at every wandering cloud that trailed_   
_Its raveled fleeces by._

-

Cloud wakes up one morning to find himself completely free for the day. Even his most pressing delivery isn’t expected for two more days, and it’s all the way in Corel. He’s got some other deliveries due later to make on the Western Continent, so he decides to group them all together on his next run and spend the day relaxing.

Maybe he should ask Vincent if they can spend time together today, Cloud thinks as he steps into the kitchen, tying an apron around his waist. Maybe it will make his unwanted and very unnecessary jealousy go away.

Cloud’s keeping careful watch over his frying pancakes when he senses Vincent walk in. The man sounds faintly surprised as he asks, “You are usually working around this time of day, are you not?”

“My next run’s not ‘til tomorrow,” Cloud says, flipping one. “You got anything planned for today? Was wondering if we could spend some time together. It’s been a while.”

“I’m to meet Genesis for lunch,” Vincent says, “but you are welcome to join if you’d like. I’m sure Genesis would enjoy your presence. He’s been commenting a bit recently about not seeing you around anymore.”

Cloud stares down at the griddle as he flips another pancake. Spending time with both Genesis and Vincent does sound rather appealing, but he isn’t sure if he’d get in the way. “I don’t… know anything about books and that kind of stuff,” he says hesitantly. “I wouldn’t want to bother you guys.”

A pause. “You wouldn’t be a bother,” Vincent says, a strange tone to his voice. “Cloud…”

“Hm?” Cloud looks up.

Vincent looks away. “Never mind.”

Cloud frowns. What’s that supposed to mean?

 _He just doesn’t want to lie to you,_ the ugliness in Cloud’s chest says.

 _Shut up,_ Cloud says back.

-

To Cloud’s great misfortune, lunch with Genesis and Vincent goes disastrously well.

They both make references once in a while that go straight over Cloud’s head, but Genesis always seems delighted to explain, Vincent weighing in briefly every so often, and the passion in his words has Cloud considering reading their suggested books, if only to see Genesis’s eyes brighten again in the same way. He finds himself laughing more than he has the past few weeks combined, and smiling when he isn’t laughing. Genesis manages to coax more flustered responses out of him with his saucy winks and flirty remarks than Cloud would really like, while Vincent looks quietly pleased the entire time, and though he still doesn’t speak much, he’s more open than Cloud’s ever seen him before.

 _They really are perfect for each other,_ some part of Cloud thinks, and he can’t tell if it’s his jealousy talking or just himself, not anymore. That’s probably not a good thing.

But everything comes crashing at his feet when Vincent leaves to go pay at the register and Genesis turns to Cloud, leaning in to murmur, “So I have something I’d like to speak with you about.”

Cloud swallows hard. It can’t be… “About Vincent?”

“Vincent?” At least Genesis has the good grace to look mildly surprised. “Why would you assume it to be about him?”

“You waited until he left to bring it up,” Cloud points out.

Genesis hums thoughtfully. “In a way, yes, I suppose it has something to do with him. But—let’s just keep this to hypotheticals, all right? Currently, we’re speaking in a purely hypothetical manner.”

“Okay,” Cloud says slowly. “Hit me.”

“So let’s say, hypothetically, someone I know has taken an interest in a certain man,” Genesis says, a fond smile creeping across the edges of his mouth. “And though said man is quite quick-witted in his own right, he manages to be completely oblivious—adorably so, I must say—to the normal social cues by which one would convey his interest.”

Cloud’s gaze falls to his lap as he tries to hide his crushing dismay. He’d been foolish to hope that Genesis wouldn’t fall for Vincent as well; after all, who wouldn’t be interested in someone like him? And to Cloud’s consternation, he’s upset not only because he knows Vincent most likely returns Genesis’s interest, but also because this lunch has forced Cloud to acknowledge his own growing interest in Genesis as well.

A double blow, Cloud thinks, wincing internally. Of course the two men he’d fallen for fall for each other. But at least this way he knows both parties are good enough for each other; in a way, he feels, it probably would’ve been worse if they’d been interested in other people.

“The most troubling thing, though,” Genesis continues, “is that he’s got his eyes set on someone else. What would you propose my friend do—hypothetically, of course—in this situation?”

“He likes someone else?” Cloud says, frowning thoughtfully. Vincent’s never shown any signs of being interested in anyone, really, but maybe it's recent.

_But Genesis would know better than you by now, wouldn’t he?_

Cloud shakes his head, trying to block out his own insidious thoughts. “Are you sure?”

Genesis snorts. “Oh, yes, dear, I’m very certain.”

“I don’t know,” Cloud says, leaning his chin on his hand as he finally looks up at Genesis. “You know what he’s like. He’s probably more interested than you think.”

Something gleams in Genesis’s eyes. “You’d say so?”

Cloud smiles faintly. Even as his heart ties itself into knots, something about Genesis’s genuine excitement has Cloud feeling warm. “Sure. You should tell him. I think you’d be good together.”

Genesis frowns. “Wait, but you—”

Cloud glances up as Vincent approaches, and Genesis falls silent. “Ready to go?” Cloud asks.

Vincent nods. “It’s almost four. We were talking for quite a while.”

Genesis leaps out of his seat. “Oh, I’m going to be late for my shift! Tifa may as well eviscerate me if I’m late again.”

Cloud's mouth tilts up in amusement. Leave it to Tifa to strike fear into the heart of even a man like Genesis.

“Thank you both for the lovely lunch,” Genesis says, and the smile he gives Vincent tells Cloud everything he needs to know, even if they hadn’t had their “hypothetical” chat. Then he tears out of the café as if the very hounds of Hel are after him.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Vincent asks as they begin making their own way down the street.

Cloud nods, not trusting his voice to answer, and Vincent easily picks up on his cue. The rest of their walk passes in silence; when they reach their apartment, Vincent’s questioning glance is met with a shake of Cloud’s head.

“I know I’m the one who asked to hang out, but I’m kind of tired, actually,” he says, staring fixedly down at his boots as he undoes the laces so he doesn’t have to meet the other’s eyes. “Sorry.” Vincent’s presence is usually a huge help when Cloud’s caught in one of his turbulent moods, but this time he’s part of the reason for it. Besides, Cloud had wanted their time together today to be something companionable and lighthearted; Vincent shouldn’t have to deal with anything less.

Genesis would be different. He’d be able to ignore his irrationalities, to be his usual witty, engaging self, to give Vincent the attention and vibrancy he deserves. Genesis’s full attention is like that, brilliant and intense, Cloud thinks, gut twisting, and at this point he isn’t even sure who he’s jealous of anymore.

(And that’s why part of Cloud doesn’t even really _want_ to feel better. He doesn’t deserve it.)

Cloud catches Vincent nod out of the corner of his eye, patient and understanding as always, and somehow he feels even worse. “Some other day, then.” The edge of Vincent’s cape brushes against Cloud’s shoulder as he sweeps away. Intentional. Meant to comfort.

Cloud’s mood sinks lower.

It’s not until Cloud reaches his room that he realizes that Genesis never named who he’d thought Vincent’s other love interest had been. Unless he’d been referring to the strange unresolved tension between Cloud and Vincent? But Vincent’s been more than clear that he doesn’t want it to progress anywhere. And what had Genesis been about to say before Vincent had appeared? 'Wait, but you—'

 _'But you love Vincent too, don't you?'_ Cloud mentally finishes. Cloud knows his feelings for Vincent are clear as day; there’s no way Genesis hasn’t realized. He must have been making sure Cloud wouldn't interfere. No, he was nice enough to make sure Cloud had been okay with it, Cloud corrects. Even when he hadn't had to. Cloud has no claim over Vincent.

_And your actions just prove it, don’t they? He deserves better than someone who gave him up so easily, like he was nothing worth fighting for._

_I’m just recognizing how I never had a chance,_ Cloud answers with a tired sigh. But Genesis does; they're good for each other. They'll be happy together. That's what Cloud wants, isn’t it? For them to be happy?

But the heavy lump in his throat says otherwise, and what kind of terrible person is he to be heartbroken by their happiness?

For once, the voice in Cloud's head says nothing, the silence ringing strangely in his ears. But Cloud isn't sure if that's a good thing; perhaps it's only left because it is no longer needed. After all, Cloud seems to be able to accomplish its job well enough on his own.

-

One night of every month, AVALANCHE meets in Seventh Heaven to drink, catch up with each other, trade ridiculous stories. Sometimes one or two people can’t make it, but it’s part of their routine.

What’s not routine is Genesis’s presence as a bartender.

Cloud stumbles in late, having just finished his rounds on the Western Continent. Cid follows closely behind, swearing up a storm as he wrings out his soaked clothes from the literal storm outside. Tifa takes one look at their hangdog appearances and tosses a towel each, Cloud’s landing on his head, Cid’s smacking against his chest before falling to the floor.

“Dry off before you drip all over my nice wooden floor,” Tifa says.

“Yes ma’am,” Cloud mutters. Cid just grumbles something unintelligible.

“Yo, Cid, Cloud!” Barret calls over the din of the bar, his eager waving clearly visible over the heads of all the other patrons. “Come sit over here!”

Cloud makes it two steps before a blur assaults him, slamming full-force into his back.

“Cloud!” Yuffie yells into his ear as she clings precariously to his shoulders. “Who’s the new red guy? Is he the one the WRO’s makin’ a huge fuss over? What’s the tea on him, huh? Reeve won’t tell me anything, the loser! So? So? So?”

Cloud grunts, tugging Yuffie’s legs into a more comfortable piggyback position around his waist before continuing to make his way over to the rest of their group. “He’s a rogue SOLDIER Vincent and I were sent after a while back. He’s staying with Tifa until he finds work somewhere else. What about him?”

Cloud can _feel_ Yuffie pouting. “Gods, I bet that’s all you know about him, huh? You’re so boring, you know that?”

“Thanks,” Cloud says, a tad gloomily. _Boring. M_ _ _ay_ be that’s why Genesis and Vincent both don’t— _

Cloud shakes his head firmly. He doesn’t want any of those kinds of thoughts tonight. Not when tonight is supposed to be for his friends.

Cloud sets Yuffie down with a _thump_ onto an empty bar stool, ignoring her indignant protests, then settles into one himself. Beside him, Vincent gives him a faint smile and nod before pushing a drink over. “Saved one for you before the late-night rush,” he says, low voice barely audible over everyone else’s noise.

“Thanks.” Cloud flashes a brief smile back before taking a sip. It’s his usual. Cloud glances over at Vincent’s half-empty drink, the same clear amber color as his own. Come to think of it, that had been Vincent’s usual those weeks ago when they’d first brought Genesis to Seventh Heaven, hadn’t it—?

Cloud shakes his head again. _No more of those thoughts,_ he repeats to himself.

Instead, he settles back and watches the rest of AVALANCHE, a content warmth settling in his chest as their antics grow increasingly wild with each hour. Reeve and Nanaki are caught in an engaging conversation, Nanaki clearly trying his hardest to ignore Yuffie’s attempts at lighting something alcoholic on fire with his tail. Barret waves his gun arm wildly as he rants about something to Cid, his gesticulation growing wider and wider the drunker he gets. Tifa’s still behind the counter, talking to Genesis, and to Cloud’s surprise, they both glance over to where he and Vincent are sitting.

Tifa’s frowning. She’s got her arms crossed in the way she does when she’s feeling particularly overprotective, and Cloud can’t help but wonder if she’s giving Genesis the shovel talk. She’s always been perceptive, after all; if even Cloud’s picked up on whatever’s going on between him and Vincent, there’s no way Tifa hasn’t.

In turn, Genesis looks faintly surprised, before smirking and answering in that smooth way of his.

Tifa blinks, clearly thrown. Finally, an approving look crosses her face, and she turns back to say something else as she reaches for another glass to clean, and Cloud turns back to his own drink, suddenly crushed. If even Tifa approves…

Cloud reaches blindly for his—fifth? His sixth? He’s actually not sure how much he’s had, and he blames that for what falls out of his mouth next. “Vincent?”

Vincent blinks at him questioningly. His own eyes are a hazy wine-red, not quite drunk, but definitely relaxed. This, too, must also be why he even deigns to answer Cloud’s question.

Cloud turns his gaze up, examining the cracks in the off-white ceiling. “Do you love anyone?”

Vincent’s eyes widen. “I… I dare not think of love,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very convinced himself. “Lucrecia…”

“That’s not a no,” Cloud says, and his voice sounds calm and detached even to his own ears. He can only hope that one day, his heart might feel the same.

“I…” Vincent’s eyes lower, and he admits, almost guiltily, “Yes. With all my heart, traitor as it is. I know it is impossible, and yet…”

At that moment, Genesis chooses to turn back to face them, and he cocks a brow and flashes a broad smirk, brilliant and beautiful for all its seductiveness. Vincent looks surprised, but smiles fondly back, and Cloud’s heart wrenches in his chest.

Cloud sighs, leaning his chin on his hands. “You should try,” he murmurs despite himself. “Love like that… Don’t you think it’s worth it?”

 _Hypocrite,_ he berates himself. Another part of him says, _But at least he has a chance. More than a chance, even. Not like you._

 _No,_ Cloud agrees. _Not like me._

Vincent turns his surprised look on Cloud, but Cloud just lays his head in his arms, forehead resting against the cool glass of his drink, and doesn’t say another word for the rest of the night.

-

“Mornin’,” Cloud croaks into his PHS, half-dangling off the edge of the bed in the same position from which he’d dragged his discarded pants close enough to slide said PHS out of the back pocket.

 _“Cloud Strife!”_ Cloud pinches the bridge of his nose as Tifa’s scolding voice filters through the speaker, trying to focus through his pounding headache. _“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon! I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, and you know Vincent never answers his PHS—wait, have you been asleep the entire time?”_

“Mmngh,” Cloud grunts. He’d actually laid awake long into the early hours of the morning last night, running Vincent’s words and actions through his mind over and over again as he’d tossed and turned before finally passing out when the sun had just begun to rise.

Tifa’s voice softens with concern. _“ … Are you feeling all right, Cloud? You don’t sound too good. You didn’t drink that much last night, nowhere near enough for you to wake up with hangover symptoms. Did you get sick from the rain?”_

“M’fine,” Cloud mumbles, then shakes himself awake. “Jus’ tired. Deliveries were long yesterday. What’s up?”

Tifa laughs a tad nervously. _“Well, it’s a bit late to ask, but you and Vincent have room to put up one more person in your apartment, right?”_

“Yeah, Vincent doesn’t sleep in his bed. Why?”

A pause.

“Tifa?”

Tifa coughs. _“Well, Barret’s planning on staying for a week or so to spend time with Marlene. But unfortunately our spare room’s occupied by a certain redhead who’s already in the worst of all petty moods after spending last night on the couch, which you know wouldn’t be comfortable for Barret to sleep on, and none of us think we’ll be able to stand another morning of snide comments.”_

“You need us to put Barret up for the week?” Cloud asks. “Sure, we can—”

 _“Ah, no,”_ Tifa says, coughing awkwardly again. _“Actually—”_

A knock sounds at the door.

“Uh, Tifa, give me a sec, actually,” Cloud says, scrambling to tug his pants on single-handed. “There’s someone at the door.”

 _“Oh,”_ Tifa says. _“That would be—”_

The front door creaks open. “Genesis?” Vincent’s voice says from the kitchen.

“Genesis?” Cloud repeats into the receiver.

 _“Yes, Genesis,”_ Tifa says. _“Barret wanted to stay here with Marlene, and Genesis was fine with staying with you guys, so…”_

“Oh,” Cloud says, a bit numbly. “Okay.”

_“That’s all right with you, right, Cloud? … Cloud?”_

“It’s fine,” Cloud finally answers, still numb. “Talk to you later.”

_“Cloud—?”_

Cloud hangs up.

-

Genesis and Vincent both stare as Cloud stumbles into the living room, yawning, and he runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair a tad self-consciously. “Morning,” he mumbles.

“Good afternoon, rather,” Genesis responds, gaze dropping to Cloud’s chest, and Cloud suddenly realizes he’s forgotten to put on a shirt—Genesis is staring at the ugly scars left there by Masamune, no doubt. Thankfully, when Cloud shifts and casually crosses his arms to cover up, Genesis’s eyes snap back to his face. “Tifa said she’d inform you of my new… housing circumstances, so to speak. I do hope you find everything acceptable.”

Cloud nods. “Yeah, she called.” He neglects to say exactly _when_ he’d gotten her call, though. At Vincent’s questioning glance, he adds, “Barret’s staying at Seventh Heaven for the week, so Genesis is staying with us. I volunteered your bed… Sorry.”

Vincent shakes his head. “No apology needed. You were asleep until now? That’s unlike you.” _Are you all right?_

Cloud averts his eyes to stare at the wall. “Long day yesterday,” he says. _I’m fine._

Vincent hums skeptically, but just says, “It was storming when you came in, was it not? Be careful to not catch a cold.”

“You better be careful too, you’re starting to sound like Tifa,” Cloud teases, but rather than the tiny smirk he usually gets, Cloud earns a frown.

“Perhaps in this case, that is a good thing. You were…” Vincent pauses, clearly hesitant, but frowns harder and continues, “Not yourself last night.” _I’m worried,_ his eyes say, and Vincent must truly be very worried if he’s going so far out of his comfort zone to press Cloud like this.

Cloud shakes his head firmly, berating himself for being so self-absorbed that Vincent’s picked up on his unusual behavior. He doesn’t want Vincent to worry about him, not when Cloud has no right to be upset in the first place. Not when he doesn’t deserve it. “Just tired. Slept it off.”

Vincent’s eyes flash in the particular way that means he doesn’t believe Cloud’s bullshit but doesn’t want to call him out on it. Vincent is blessedly just as confrontation-averse as Cloud is.

Genesis, on the other hand, has no such qualms. “What do you mean? What happened last night?” he demands, head swiveling back and forth between the two of them as if his glare it will make them answer faster.

“It’s not a big deal,” Cloud grumbles. “Just didn’t talk much last night. Like I said, I was tired. Nothing weird.”

Genesis raises his brows. “You spoke even less than you usually do, Cloud? Why, I didn’t know such a thing was possible. If Vincent has reason to think something was wrong last night, I’m rather inclined to believe him.”

Cloud ducks his chin defensively. “And I’m telling you nothing was wrong. Besides, I speak to you plenty.”

_More than I do with anyone else._

Vincent gives Cloud another concerned look, and Cloud shakes his head slightly, pleading with his eyes for Vincent to stay silent, to not mention their conversation—no doubt Genesis will realize exactly how badly their own conversation has affected Cloud, and that’s the last thing Cloud wants. Just when it seems like Vincent might concede, Genesis tugs impatiently on the black sleeve of his shirt. “Vincent? What _really_ happened?”

“I…” Just a month ago, Vincent would have taken Cloud’s secrets with him to the grave, immortality be damned, but now he looks helplessly torn.

Cloud can’t take it anymore. If Genesis is going to find out, he’d rather not be here to witness the pity and regret dawn across his face, to watch Genesis reconsider getting involved with Vincent because of Cloud’s selfishness, because for all his bluster, Genesis is surprisingly considerate of his friends’ emotions.

“I’ve—got to go catch up on my runs,” Cloud says, lying through his teeth; he doesn’t actually have anything due before tomorrow morning. He strides to the front door as fast as he can without actually looking hurried. Screw his shirt. He’s got an extra change of clothes in Fenrir. “I slept in too late.”

“Cloud—!” Genesis moves to stop him, but Vincent stays him with a touch to the arm, shaking his head.

“Come back safe,” Vincent says softly. Cloud doesn’t have to look back to know that he’s upset.

Cloud pauses in the doorway. “Yeah,” he answers, just as soft. “I will.”

Then he shuts the door.

Cloud and Vincent have stuck together through Meteorfall, through Geostigma, through Deepground. They may have strayed their separate ways every so often, but they always end up finding each other again somehow. Cloud is Vincent’s rock, just as Vincent is Cloud’s; the one thing Cloud can promise him is that he will always, always come back. Except—

Except Genesis is a lighthouse, piercing through the fog around them and beckoning them both to shore. And for the first time, Vincent seems to be looking, wishing he could fight his way through the crashing waves back to stable ground, but to try means leaving his rock behind. Leaving Cloud.

Vincent wouldn’t do that, Cloud knows. He has his own brand of gentle kindness, as nonverbal as it is. If Cloud’s to continue with his awkward metaphor, perhaps Vincent’s grateful to his rock for keeping his head above water. Perhaps he’d feel guilty for abandoning it after all this time. Perhaps he’s simply afraid that if he leaves the pseudo-safety he knows, he will drown trying to reach the lighthouse.

 _(I know it is impossible,_ Vincent had said, and Cloud understands that fear all too well.)

But where he is now, Vincent’s barely keeping his head above water as it is, and what kind of life is that? Certainly not one Cloud wants for him. Cloud is no longer a lifeline, no matter how slippery and unreliable, but a deadweight shackled to his arms, his legs, his waist, keeping him from reaching the shore, from moving on. From reaching Genesis. And what does one do with deadweights other than cut them away?

If Vincent won’t do it, Cloud resolves, then Cloud will do it for him. For his and Genesis’s own good.

(If Cloud ruins their chance at happiness, he’ll never forgive himself.)

-

Cloud comes back, of course. After all, he’d all but promised.

None of them mention what happened, but sometimes, Cloud catches Genesis frowning thoughtfully in his direction. But despite his usual impatience and inability to let things lie, he says nothing. And when Cloud tries to ask Vincent what he’d told Genesis, Vincent avoids the topic like the plague.

Despite it all, spending time together is terrifyingly easy. Cloud learns exactly how Genesis likes his tea, then begins making it in the morning before his runs along with Vincent’s coffee. While at first Genesis, being a late riser, complains that it cools long before he wakes, he begins getting up earlier and earlier, even managing to catch Cloud right before he leaves once or twice. Genesis himself seems endlessly fascinated with the way Cloud is caffeine-sensitive and avoids it like the plague while Vincent is utterly unfazed by his own dark, bitter brew, citing the burn of its acidity and routine from the past as the only reason he drinks it at all.

A week passes; Genesis stays. Cloud comes and goes.

When Genesis complains about the lack of books in the house, Cloud finds himself browsing a run-down bookstore a few streets away for a new book to bring home each day. Vincent gets a longing gleam in his eyes when he catches sight of the growing collection of literature on their living room table and Cloud starts bringing home two, carefully selected to match each of their tastes. Each night, Genesis sprawls gracefully across the couch and reads aloud, voice smooth and crisp like fine wine, and Cloud finds himself enchanted by the elegant line of his fingers against the pages of each book, the way his eyes light up when he finds a unique turn of phrase he particularly likes, the way his auburn hair glows like fire in the yellow lamplight. Vincent, too, seems drawn like a moth to flame, and he always settles quietly beside Cloud to listen, ruby-red eyes fixed on Genesis as he reads.

Eventually, Cloud starts trying to keep himself busy, taking longer delivery trips than necessary, asking Reeve for more jobs, staying out of town overnight rather than going home right away. Their nightly routine grows erratic, then sputters to a halt. Despite it all, Genesis and Vincent are always distressingly glad to see him whenever he comes home. Vincent hovers even more than usual, and Genesis makes casually snide comments on Reeve’s habits of making Cloud do all his work for him.

“It feels as if you get busier and busier with each passing day,” Genesis complains each time he catches Cloud on his way out.

And Cloud makes up a variety of excuses—holiday season means more packages, a surge in monster population right when more people are traveling, WRO personnel taking time off to spend the holidays with their families.

“You ought to get time off to spend the holidays with _us,”_ Genesis says petulantly.

Cloud looks away, jaw clenched. “Sorry.”

A month. Cloud spends less time coming than going. Genesis finds work with a newly-revived theater troupe.

“They used to perform frequently at LOVELESS Avenue, can you believe it?” he says, delighted. “They said they’d be _honored_ to work with the great Genesis Rhapsodos. Vincent, what say you? How about giving up on being one of the WRO’s errand boys and working with me?”

Vincent scoffs from his seat on the couch, not even glancing up his book, but there’s a fond look in his eyes. “It’s good that you’ve found something you enjoy so much.”

Genesis pouts. “Ah, you’re no fun. How about you, Cloud? You’d only have to work afternoons, none of this grueling early-morning several-day-long schedule. Speaking of which, are you leaving again already?”

Vincent frowns, sitting up straighter to scan Cloud sharply. “In this weather?”

Cloud just shrugs, wrapping his scarf tighter around his lower face. “Theater isn’t really my thing.”

“They said they’ll be focusing on repurposing their new property for performances for now, so you wouldn’t even have to be involved in the acting,” Genesis says, also frowning. “They pay well, too. Are you sure you don’t want to switch jobs, at least until the weather gets better?”

“It’s not about the money,” Cloud mumbles.

“What? Speak up, dear. SOLDIER hearing or not, I can’t hear you through that scarf.”

Cloud shakes his head. “Not interested.”

Another month. Cloud spends more nights at an inn or camping outdoors than at home, now.

“We never see you anymore,” Genesis says in his usual petulant tone, but there’s a clear undercurrent of concern. “Well, you’re in luck, dear. It’s Marlene’s birthday, and we’ve managed to persuade the esteemed President Tuesti to refrain from assigning you any work whatsoever for the next week.”

“More like threatened,” Vincent murmurs. “Tifa and Barret were particularly helpful.”

Cloud frowns down at his feet. He knows; Barret had called and also threatened some very terrifying things if Cloud even _thinks_ about missing Marlene’s birthday. It’s the entire reason why he’s home in the first place.

Genesis shakes his head, looking a tad admiring. “Tifa—that woman has a way about her, you know. She put her foot down and Tuesti folded like wet paper.”

Cloud jerks his head back up. “Tifa? She didn’t—what did she say?”

“Simply something about not wanting to overwork you,” Genesis says, tilting his head to give Cloud a questioning look. “And quite frankly, I’m inclined to agree. You’ve slept at home perhaps two nights out of five this week.”

Cloud sighs. Of course Reeve would fold over that. But he’s just glad Tifa didn’t say anything more.

“But really, Cloud,” Genesis says, leaning closer, “you don’t have anything you’d like to tell us, do you? Secret nighttime hobbies? A newfound inamorato, perhaps? Neither of us will judge, you know.”

Cloud sputters. “A—a _what?”_

Genesis laughs. “Simply a joke, dear. Neither of us are aiming to pry into your private affairs, Cloud. Especially since we can tell there are no such _affairs_ going on. We’d be able to smell it, after all.”

Cloud wants to bury his face in his hands; he can feel his face burning. “Gods,” he mutters instead. “You sure you aren’t taking the piss?” As if Cloud would even be able to _get_ an ‘inamorato’.

"Excuse you?" Genesis straightens, bristling in mock offense.

Vincent nudges his arm gently. “We’re glad to have you back, Cloud.”

“ … Glad to be back,” Cloud answers, and he hates that it isn’t a lie.


	4. strife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for self-neglect + depression in this chapter. also probably the biggest misunderstanding to date, and that's saying a lot,
> 
> (also cloud is just. dumb of ass, poor baby)

_The man in red who reads the law  
Gave him three weeks of life,  
Three little weeks in which to heal  
His soul of his soul’s strife,  
And cleanse from every blot of blood  
The hand that held the knife. _

-

Marlene and Denzel both greet Cloud with tight hugs, and as he marvels over how Denzel reaches up to his chest, now, Cloud regrets being so occupied with acting occupied that he’s neglected to visit them as much as he should.

“Cloud!” Denzel says, tugging on Cloud’s hand. He seems to have forgotten that he’s too old to do uncool things like that in his enthusiasm. “Guess what? Tifa finally said I could ride on Fenrir with you!”

Cloud raises a brow. “Really?”

“Well, with a helmet,” Denzel says, holding up the child-sized one clutched in his hands. “And if you’re careful. But you haven’t been back in _ages._ Can we go now? Can we? Can we?”

“No fair!” Marlene says. “It’s my birthday. Cloud, I want to go too!”

“Ah,” Cloud says. Barret’s going to kill him. “You should ask your dad first.”

“But you know he’s going to say no,” Marlene says, pouting. “Please? Just this once? It’s my _birthday.”_

Cloud takes one look at her pleading expression, then sighs. “Don’t let him find out.”

Thirty minutes later, Cloud idles in front of Seventh Heaven, watching Marlene and Denzel slide off his bike and scramble back inside. He’d only taken them on a loop around Edge, but he can already tell that now that he’s been given an inch, Denzel’s going to be begging for a mile sooner or later. Distantly, he hears Marlene’s delighted shriek of “Daddy!”

Cloud winces. He gives ten minutes before Barret finds out.

“Popular with the children, are we?”

Cloud turns and dismounts to see Genesis strolling up towards him, hands idly behind his back. “They’re good kids.”

Genesis snorts. “Absolute terrors, the lot of them. After living in the same building for several weeks… well, I’ve not the faintest idea how you do it.”

Cloud shrugs. “I like kids. They’re…” Innocent. Full of hope. Not yet tied down by what society dictates should or should not be.

(Everything Cloud tries to protect in this world.)

Genesis shakes his head. “We’re all entitled to our own opinions, I suppose. Regardless, I’m glad I caught you so early. I’ve… something I’d like to ask you.” He shifts almost nervously, and Cloud catches a glimpse of flowers hidden behind his back, a shade of deep red that perfectly matches Vincent’s cape.

Cloud swallows hard. Genesis had claimed he’d had a private errand to run earlier, leaving Cloud and Vincent to head to Seventh Heaven on their own; this must be what he’d been talking about. He shakes his head and tries to give Genesis a reassuring smile. “No need to ask. I’m sure he’ll love them.”

Genesis frowns. “Actually, I wanted to ask you if—”

_“Cloud! Get your pasty ass over here!”_

Cloud’s almost glad to hear Barret’s dulcet tones. No matter the sheer amount of overprotective papa bear rage they contain, at least all he’s going to do is lecture him for a while. A far cry better than continuing this conversation with Genesis.

“Sorry, gotta go,” he says hurriedly, and tries not to look like he’s fleeing as he hightails to the front door.

-

Cloud yawns and stretches as he slips into the back room. Tifa’s asked him to secretly grab Marlene’s cake while she and her friends from school play their last party game. As he opens the fridge and pulls out the large sheet cake, a resounding cheer echoes from outside, and Cloud smiles faintly.

Everyone’s enthusiasm is infectious, but he still finds himself exhausted from being around so many people at a time, especially since Denzel’s been clinging to him, wary of all of the various eight-year-olds he doesn’t know. While Tifa’s thankfully been fielding most of said eight-year-olds’ parents attention, claiming both Cloud and Barret to be absolutely inept at such things, some of the more curious ones still slip through, asking Cloud prodding questions about his career and his past and his abilities, and terse answers seem to fail to drive them off. At least back here, things are blessedly silent.

As he makes his way back towards the front, he passes by the dim hallway that leads to the restrooms, and a flash of red catches his eye, and suddenly, he realizes he hasn’t seen either Genesis or Vincent in a while. He’s about to call out to them when he hears Vincent murmur, “But what of Cloud?”

Cloud freezes in place, then quietly ducks out of sight, peering carefully back around the wall.

“I cannot, in good conscience, agree to this before—”

“Hush,” Genesis says, and tucks a flower behind Vincent’s ear, pushing his dark hair out of his face. One of the flowers he’d been carrying earlier, Cloud realizes, and the rest are still clutched carefully in his hands. “I’ll speak to him, so relax, all right?”

 _I knew that this was what Genesis wanted to ask already,_ Cloud tells himself, but it doesn’t keep his traitorous heart from dropping like a stone into his gut. _This is private. I should leave._

But still his feet remain fixed to the ground, and his eyes to the scene before him. It's beautiful; it's terrible. Cloud’s throat and chest constrict painfully.

“No,” Vincent says after a pause. “Together. We’ll speak to him together. It’s time I stopped running.”

Genesis smiles at Vincent, soft-eyed and fond. “I’m proud of you, love.”

Vincent ducks his chin, a faint blush crossing his features. But then he frowns. “What if… he says no?”

“If he says no…” Genesis sighs. “If you truly do not wish to stay, I will not keep you. But otherwise… at least we will have each other.”

“Each other…?” Vincent muses, eyes distant. “I don't know. I never imagined…”

“I know; neither did I. But we will make do with what we have. Besides, I’m rather optimistic about our chances. After all, Cloud—”

Hearing his name jerks Cloud back to attention, and he scrambles to his feet as silently as he can before making his way back towards the party’s cheerful clamor, cake balanced carefully in his hands the entire way.

He should, Cloud knows, turn back around and give Vincent and Genesis his blessings. His approval is nothing they should be worried about; he’d even move out if they’d asked. Yet somehow, the prospect of plastering on a bright smile and giving them his empty congratulations seems impossibly daunting.

The party, when Cloud opens the door, is suddenly too loud, too bright, too much, a drastic contrast to how he had been relatively enjoying it before. But he already knows that the world goes on regardless; Cloud is simply overreacting.

“Cloud?”

Tifa’s face crosses Cloud’s vision, burgundy eyes concerned. She looks around, taking in the explosion of colorful decorations, the kids’ loud chattering, the high-pitched laughter of someone’s mother even as she covers her mouth with a delicate hand. The way Cloud blinks at her a few times, trying to process everything.

“Oh, is that why you spent so much time in the back room?” Her expression softens in sympathy as she lays a comforting hand on his arm. “I didn’t even think—I didn’t realize—I’m sorry, Cloud. Here, let me take that. You head home and rest, okay? Take a break; you deserve it. I’ll tell the others where you went.” As Cloud hands her the cake on autopilot, she shakes her head, adding under her breath, “I guess that’s why those other two haven’t been around at all, too.”

“ … Yeah,” Cloud says, nodding. “Take a break… That sounds like a good idea. Thanks, Tifa.”

Tifa says something in response, but Cloud just throws a careless wave over his shoulder as he wanders in the direction of the front door, deep in thought.

Tifa’s right; maybe he just needs to take a break. He’d thought distancing himself over the past few months would have helped him grow less attached, but the way his heart still sits numb and heavy in his chest proves him wrong.

 _Absence makes the heart grow fonder,_ he’s sure Genesis would say, but Cloud’s also heard _out of sight, out of mind._ Yes, he’d definitely gone wrong, Cloud thinks. He shouldn’t have come back at all; every time he had he’d realized how much he’d missed them both, and his absence had simply enabled him to fall in love deeper, harder. No, this time he has to stay ‘out of sight’ long enough.

So he’ll take a break. A long one. And he’ll come back when it hurts less, he tells himself, and life will go on. As it should.

(He ignores the part of him that says it might never hurt less.)

-

_"You have five new voice messages and twenty-three saved voice messages. First new voice message.”_

_“Cloud, this is Genesis again. I refuse to believe that something as simple as a delivery run has taken you down, so that leaves only the option that something here drove you away. I don’t know what happened, what went wrong, but please just come back and we’ll deal with it together, all—”_

_Click._

_“Cloud, it’s been almost two full weeks. It says you’ve been reading my texts, but you still haven’t replied once. Cloud… what’s going on? We’re all worried. Vincent and Genesis want their roommate back, I can tell. They’re… well, please just call back, okay?”_

_Click._

_“Cloud, this is—oh, hell, I don’t need to introduce myself anymore after all these messages, do I? You’re probably not even listening to—”_

_Click._

_“Cloud. Please come back soon.”_ A heavy pause. _“Be safe. Plea—”_

_Click._

_“Cloud, you and I both know that I’ve never been one to speak briefly, but… all I will say is this. Please come home. We—”_

_Click._

_"End of new voice messages. First saved voice message.”_

_"Yo, Spiky! Tifa told us about what happened. Too bad ya couldn't stay the whole time, but thanks for makin' it anyways, especially when you've been getting so busy! Marlene's real fond of ya, so don't work yourself too hard, yeah? Come by and visit more often!"_

_Click._

_"Oh my gods, Cloudster, you'll never guess what happened! The great ninja Yuffie totally caught Vinny and that new red guy, whatshisface, Gen-whatever—well, that's not important. The real news is, they were totally holding hands!! They seem to be trying to keep things on the real down-low, though, so I figured since you live with 'em, you'd have all the tea. Anyways, call me back so you can tell me everything you know, yeah? See ya!"_

_Click._

_“Cloud, this is Genesis. I realized I never gave you my new phone number, you’ve been gone so often, so—”_

_Click._

_“Cloud, are you all right? Genesis and Vincent told me about the note you left them, but you usually aren’t gone without any word for so long. I’d hoped you’d be able to get more rest, what with how much you’ve been working recently, but—what kind of delivery is this? Are you even getting signal out wherever you are? You haven’t answered any calls in a while. Well, if you get this, please call back.”_

_Click._

_“Cloud, this is Genesis. Where are you? It’s been almost a week; you’ve never been gone for—”_

_Click._

_“HUGE update, Cloudster! I think I caught the red duo—that’s what I’m calling them now, since they’re both red, yanno—but yeah, I think I caught them kissing! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!! They jumped apart and looked super guilty when they heard me—I was just super excited, okay, the great ninja Yuffie’d never get caught otherwise—and they made me swear to not tell anyone, like anyone at all, but you’re, like, their best friend or something right? So I figured it was okay to tell you, plus I had to update you after my last message—”_

_Click._

_“Yo, your voicemail totally cut me off! Stupid thirty second time limit. Yeah, I could just text you, but it’s not the same, yanno? But I wanted to tell you… they looked kind of sad even when they were kissing. I think they miss you, Cloudster. Isn’t that a huge honor, cockblocking by not even being there? Haha, just kidding! But… come back soon, okay? Gen’s in even bigger of a pissy mood than usual and I’m, like, one-hundred-percent sure it’s your fault. So yeah… see ya soon!”_

_Click._

_“Cloud, this is Genesis again. Please, please pick up. We’re—”_

Cloud jumps, nearly dropping his PHS as it begins to vibrate in his hands. A quick check of the caller ID shows Genesis’s name, and Cloud panics, jabbing the power button.

His PHS falls silent, call rejected. Somehow, even as the black screen stares blankly up at him, it seems to radiate Genesis’s patent offended expression. Not even three seconds later, it begins buzzing again, and Cloud fumbles with it awkwardly before finally powering it off.

He sighs heavily. After two weeks of accepting orders digitally, he’s run out of deliveries to make, and he’s wary of contacting Reeve for work with how he’s been ignoring everyone else. But he can’t just _not_ work either; he finds himself thinking too hard of Vincent’s hair and Genesis’s eyes and the scent of their clothing and the exact timbre of their voices when his mind has nothing else to focus on.

Sooner or later, he’s going to have to head back to Edge to pick up all his physical orders, and Cloud sighs again, slinging a leg over Fenrir in preparation. Might as well get it over with sooner, before he finds himself with too much time on his hands. 

And if he detours whenever he can to take care of some stray monsters—well, he’s just helping the locals, then, isn’t he?

-

Cloud checks his PHS one more time, then nods, reassuring himself. At this time, neither Vincent or Genesis should be home; both are usually at work.

Then he scolds himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of this place as his home, not anymore. It will just make things harder on them all, and he’s already caused the others enough trouble, regardless of whether they know it or not.

The moment he eases the door open, though, he freezes. From here, the running of water and clanking of dishes are easily audible. Someone is inside.

But he can’t turn back now. The running water may have disguised the sound of his stride up the stairwell, but neither Vincent or Genesis would ever miss the sound of the door opening. So Cloud swallows hard, then walks in.

The water stops. “Genesis?”

Cloud freezes again. Of course it would be Vincent. He isn’t sure if that makes things better or worse.

Vincent appears in the hallway, drying his hands with a towel. “Genesis, you said you would not be home until—”

The towel falls to the floor.

“Cloud!” Vincent utters, a breath, a prayer.

In the next moment, Cloud’s vision is swallowed by deep blood-red fabric, just as soft and velvety as he’d always imagined. As if on instinct, he melts into the embrace, leaning close and almost bringing his hands up to clutch at Vincent’s back before he catches himself, stiffening guiltily.

“You came home,” Vincent murmurs into his hair, and Cloud frowns again at that word. _Home._ “We were worried.”

Cloud frowns. True, they’d said as much in their voice messages, but they shouldn’t have been. “I left a note.”

“You were gone for over two weeks.”

“I was busy,” Cloud mumbles. It’s a weak excuse, he knows. But it isn’t a lie. He _has_ been keeping himself very busy with deliveries. The fact that it was on purpose changes nothing. Holding himself as separate as he can with Vincent’s arms around him, he asks carefully, “Why are you… Where’s Genesis?”

“Genesis is at work,” Vincent says, voice a tangible rumble where Cloud’s cheek is pressed into his chest, and Cloud suppresses a shiver. “We arranged it so that one of us would be home at all times.”

 _To catch you,_ passes implied.

“Oh,” Cloud says, shutting his eyes. He should be pulling away. He knows this. Vincent will not fight him if he tries, he knows. But this is something he’s wanted for so long that he can’t tear himself away, even though all his selfishness does is hurt them all. “I… need to pick up more orders.”

Vincent says nothing for a long, long time. Then he sighs, slow and silent, and withdraws. “Go. I will not keep you.”

Cloud looks up at him, meeting the other’s eyes for the first time. They contain something resigned, almost sad, but Cloud just nods. “Thank you.”

What Genesis and Vincent have make them happy. They’re both able to give each other something Cloud knows he cannot; he’s seen enough evidence of that himself. But his selfish heart isn’t ready to accept that yet, and if he stays, Cloud knows, he won’t be able to show them the genuine support and acceptance they deserve. For some reason, they both deeply value his opinion, and given their conversation he overheard, he doesn’t quite like the idea that his inhibitions might have negative effects on their relationship. Thankfully, if Yuffie is to be trusted, his absence hasn’t prevented them from getting together. If Cloud somehow holds them back from fully realizing their happiness… well.

Cloud is gone before the hour.

-

Over the next week, Genesis blows Cloud’s PHS up with several calls and texts an hour, but this time, Cloud doesn't open any of them. If not for the fact that he needs his PHS to receive new delivery orders, he'd have turned it off. As he sits on a grassy knoll, taking a short break to skim through his new messages, his finger hovers uncertainly over the option to block Genesis's number. He's never had to block anyone before. Will Genesis receive a notification? Cloud doesn't want to seriously offend the man; he is, after all, planning on going back eventually.

Eventually.

Cloud stares down at his PHS for a moment longer, then sighs as another call from Genesis comes in. Even though he never picks up, never listens to the voicemail left, never reads his texts, each new notification has something tiny and fragile that aches of hope twinging in his chest. It hurts, yes, but never so much as whenever the reality of his situation ruthlessly quashes it half a second later.

Better to cut it out of his life sooner than later, Cloud thinks, just like he’d cut out listening to their voice messages and the option of going home. It’ll be easier that way. Who knows, maybe someday in the far future, Cloud will be able to tell Genesis this story and they will laugh together; it does seem almost like something out of those trashy drama novels Genesis so fervently denies he likes. So he presses the ‘block’ button, quickly pocketing his PHS before he regrets it.

Then he runs a weary hand over his face, sighing. He hasn’t been sleeping much, lately, not with memories of Vincent’s embrace lingering every time he closes his eyes. It’s better to not dream at all, to avoid the reminder of the scent of his hair and the softness of his cloak and the weight of his arms wrapped around Cloud’s back.

He lays a careful hand over where a tiny container sits in his pants pocket. He knows he’s promised Tifa he wouldn’t take caffeine pills, not anymore, but when he blinks and his vision blurs for a second, two, he thinks he might have to break his promise soon.

When he rises to his feet, a sudden bout of lightheadedness has him gripping the handles of Fenrir tightly, head spinning and vision fading black about the edges. He shakes his head, trying to rid it of the fuzz.

After everything goes back to relative normalcy, Cloud pulls out the plastic bottle and turns it over and over in his hands, listening to the tiny pills rattle around inside. He’d rather not ride Fenrir in his current state. Besides, he’s gone for much longer than a few days without sleep, and longer still with the help of these pills. Just until the dreams go away, he tells himself. He’ll be fine.

Cloud sets his jaw, then pops the lid open.

-

Things don’t come to a head until Tifa calls one day, and doesn’t stop. Cloud cups his PHS in both hands, extended as far away from his body as possible as he prays fervently for it to stop vibrating, half-afraid that Tifa will somehow sense his proximity to it.

It falls silent.

Cloud slowly brings it back towards himself, just close enough to peer at its screen, when it buzzes shortly once, twice. A text. Used to his clients texting him, Cloud taps it on autopilot, then pales when he reads what it says.

_Tifa: CLOUD STRIFE_

_Tifa: PICK UP YOUR DAMN PHONE_

“Shit,” Cloud mutters, fumbling to exit out of the app, but it’s too late. 

_Tifa: I CAN SEE YOU READING THIS_

_Tifa: DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE LEAVE ME ON READ AGAIN CLOUD STRIFE_

_Tifa: DO YOU HEAR ME?_

_Tifa: I CAN AND WILL MAKE YOU REGRET BEING BORN IF YOU DO_

_“Shit,”_ Cloud says again, more emphatically. He should have checked before opening her message. He blames the sleep deprivation; that combined with the caffeine has him somewhere between feeling like he’s walking on air, oddly removed from reality, and fidgeting constantly, so jittery that he feels he might vibrate out of his skin.

His PHS vibrates again from a call. This time, Cloud picks up.

"You know that threat's useless," Cloud says weakly in greeting. "You can't make me regret being born any more than I already do."

 _"I have my ways. Besides, it got you to finally answer the phone, didn't it? It's almost been a month. A_ month, _Cloud."_

Cloud doesn't answer.

 _"Cloud."_ Contrary to her rather aggressive texts, Tifa sounds cautious, concerned, gentle, as if soothing a spooked animal. _"Are you all right?"_

Cloud swallows hard. "I—yeah, I… I'm fine."

_"Are you sure? That doesn't sound fine to me."_

"I'm fine," Cloud repeats, more firmly this time. "Or I will be, anyways." At this point, he's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or Tifa.

_"But that means that there's something wrong now, doesn't it?"_

Cloud sighs, nodding reluctantly. Then he remembers Tifa can't see him nod over the line. Before he can pull himself together enough to respond vocally, she asks, _"Do you want to talk about it?"_

"I…" If it were anyone else, Cloud's answer would be a fervent _no._ But this is Tifa; there's a very good chance she'll have a better answer to Cloud's dilemma, one that doesn't involve "just talk to them!" the way most people's would. After all, Tifa knows Cloud much too well to suggest something like that. "Ye—no. Well, maybe…?"

 _"Cloud?"_ Tifa sounds concerned again. _"You're usually a little more coherent than this. Have you been overworking yourself again?"_ A sigh. _"Oh, who am I kidding, of course you have, haven't you? You always get like this when you're trying to ignore your problems until they go away."_

"Hey!" Cloud protests. "I take offense from that."

Tifa sighs again. _"You have to have improved to be able to be offended. Are you actually eating and sleeping this time?"_

" … Oh," Cloud says. He knew he'd been forgetting _something._

_"Cloud! How did you even make it past the first few days?"_

"I did sleep," Cloud mumbles. "At least for the first few weeks."

 _"But not after that? And what about food?"_ Tifa sounds incredulous.

" … I forgot," Cloud mumbles again, quieter this time.

 _"Cloud! It's like you're just_ asking _to be hospitalized again! You've been taking those pills again, haven't you? How could you? You promised!"_

Cloud hesitates, unsure of what to say. The moment he opens his mouth to answer, though, he hears another voice on the other end exclaim, _"Hospitalized? What do you mean, hospitalized?"_

Cloud snaps his mouth shut. Then he opens it again and asks, quiet and unsteady, "Tifa? Why is Genesis with you?"

Tifa utters a quiet curse under her breath about SOLDIER hearing, then scolds further from the receiver, _"Genesis! You couldn't keep your mouth shut? You had one job!"_

"Tifa," Cloud says again, helpless. "I trusted you."

 _"Cloud,"_ Tifa pleads, _"they're worried about you. They just want to help—"_

 _"Tifa,"_ a third voice says, low and deadly. _"Explain. Now."_

Cloud sucks in a sharp breath, and it stabs like needles in his lungs. "V-Vincent?"

_" … Cloud—"_

Cloud hangs up.

-

It all starts like this:

After the Geostigma outbreak and the incident with the Remnants and Aerith’s healing rain, there are still millions outside of Midgar and Edge who are infected. The WRO sends as much manpower as it can spare from rebuilding to deliver vials of water taken from the spring in the church all over Gaia. The springwater itself remains one of Edge’s most well-kept secrets, next to Cloud’s own identity, in order to prevent the church from being overrun.

But the WRO is short-staffed as it is—this is before the majority of its ex-SOLDIERs recruits join, when they are all still afflicted by or recovering from Geostigma—so Cloud decides to help the cure distribution efforts. It’s just another aspect of his delivery service, Cloud tells Tifa, and she can’t argue; Cloud’s been offering impromptu first aid while on the road to whoever needs it ever since he started his business, and it’d only grown to include more as he’d studied medical texts in a futile attempt to cure Geostigma.

In a way, Cloud thinks this might be a kind of redemption for him. He’s spent so long destroying things, but maybe now he can finally start healing them instead. He’ll never be as good as Aerith, but he doesn’t think anyone else might ever be. Besides, there are many things that materia cannot touch; Cloud tries to make the most difference there.

Each town Cloud visits, there are several people whose Geostigma is so severe that even with Aerith’s water, with JENOVA’s presence gone, there is no saving a hand here, a foot there. Entire legs and arms and sometimes whole chunks of flesh from the back, the torso, the face—

Cloud starts studying how to best lower the rate of infection after amputations. How to help with physical rehabilitation. How to make prosthetics. He starts doing all his traveling at night to save time, torn between staying longer to help people recover and getting the cure to the next area as soon as possible.

One day when he’s back in Edge to restock, Tifa tells him over dinner how he seems so much more driven these days, how she’s glad he’s gotten over his listlessness from before, but that he should try taking more breaks for his own health. Cloud tells her that the Geostigma hasn’t taken any breaks in killing people, and she falls silent.

After about half a year, Aerith’s rain has become part of Gaia’s natural water cycle, seeping into the ground and the plants and the air, and the frantic rush to distribute the cure finally slows down. The Planet, now, will take care of the rest faster than they can.

That’s when the monsters start appearing.

Maybe it’s a form of revenge after so much of JENOVA has been wiped out, destroyed. Maybe it’s some sort of last resort. Either way, the last surviving remnants of her taint seek each other out, mindless, settling deep and insidious in the wildlife, and turning them into something stronger, more vicious, more dangerous than the mako-tainted beasts AVALANCHE had often fought on their travels.

They travel in packs, intelligent enough to coordinate with each other in often lethal ways, and even the WRO's strongest and most experienced ex-SOLDIER squads struggle to handle them without serious injury. After all, they number even less than they had after the Wutai War, and there are no SOLDIER Firsts left, not anymore.

Cloud’s the first to offer help, but the problem gets bad enough that other members of AVALANCHE also start being sent out in groups of two or three. Reeve often brings up wanting to send someone with Cloud as backup, but everyone else is always needed elsewhere, or maybe Cloud's the one who's needed elsewhere, so Cloud is always alone.

He finds out eventually that Vincent, too, goes alone, but by choice rather than anything else, and Reeve has discreetly asked Yuffie to stay in the general area just in case. He tries not to think too hard about it.

(What if he is caught off guard and gets hurt? What if something happens with his demons and he has no one to help him? What if he requested to go alone because he knew only Cloud doesn’t have a partner, and he doesn’t want to spend time with Cloud specifically?)

But Cloud knows his worries are illogical, so he dismisses them and moves on.

This time, no one objects when Cloud stops coming back to Edge, starts accepting missions back-to-back, doesn't have time to make calls back home anymore. They need as many battle-ready groups out there as possible, and he's really the one in the least danger—there's no way he'd die from fighting a few monsters, no matter how vicious they are, not after everything he's been through with _Sephiroth—_

And they're right. Sephiroth alone is worth hundreds, _thousands_ of these monsters, perhaps more. There's no way Cloud can fail.

(And if he does, well, it's already been proven that the Planet can send him back when he dies, hasn't it?)

No one is there to notice when Cloud starts sleeping less, eating less, fighting more, and Cloud himself chooses to say nothing. After all, Reeve only sends Cloud on missions where lives are at stake, both civilian and not; it’s not his fault that the WRO simply doesn’t have the manpower to handle more. Besides, the faster they can clear out these new monsters, the sooner everyone will be able to travel safely, and then Cloud will be able to go home.

Going home would be nice, he thinks whenever Tifa leaves a message about how Denzel and Marlene miss him.

He doesn’t remember how or why he finds out about caffeine pills. He does remember, though, that it somehow turns the world crystal-clear and hyperfocused, colors just a tad too bright and sharp, and everything moves slower than usual. His mind is clear for the first time in weeks, but it whirls too fast for him to keep up—his whole body is moving too fast to keep up—

But he settles back down into his usual wavelength exhausted but completely unscathed but for a pounding migraine, and sees nothing left of the monster pack he’d sought out on Reeve’s request due to their encroaching threat on the safety of North Corel’s trains. In fact, there don’t seem to be any monsters left in the Corel region at all.

He vaguely notes that three days have passed in a complete blur. He doesn’t care. One thing leads to the next, and in the end, he wakes up several months later in the WRO hospital back in Edge, the smell of antiseptic sharp in his nose.

 _Overwork and exhaustion,_ they diagnose. _Needs bed rest and a careful diet._

Tifa makes Cloud promise to never do the same again; he agrees because she looks like she’s been crying. All of AVALANCHE drop by several times in the next week. All except one.

 _Where’s Vincent,_ he asks, and Tifa looks both worried and frustrated when she explains what’s happened with Deepground while Cloud has been asleep.

 _He’s still fighting,_ she says. _But he’s been giving reports to Reeve. Reeve's been staying quiet because he doesn't want Vincent to be distracted, but I can ask—_

 _No,_ Cloud says, looking away. _Don’t tell him._

Tifa only lets Cloud out of his hospital bed for the planned attack on Midgar after hours of pleading and bargaining. After that, everyone—Cloud included—is so occupied by Vincent's sudden disappearance after fighting Omega that the incident is completely wiped from their minds. So Vincent never finds out, and Cloud is glad to keep it that way.

That is, until now.


	5. blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy valentine's day everyone!! here have some overly dramatic bastards finally getting their act together

_And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand,  
_ _The hand that held the steel:  
_ _For only blood can wipe out blood_  
_And only tears can heal:_  
_And the crimson stain that was of Cain_  
_Became Christ’s snow-white seal._

-

Of course, Vincent can sense Cloud just as well as Cloud can sense him; it doesn’t take more than a few days before Cloud feels two familiar presences making a beeline towards his location. And Cloud, who’d been anticipating something along these lines the moment he’d heard Genesis’s voice over the phone, sighs and drives a few miles out from the nearest town and settles down to wait. He’d debated running, of course, but he’s spent the past few days so stressed anticipating this confrontation that all he feels now is devastatingly tired and blank.

_Whatever happens, I’m screwed either way,_ he thinks to himself, and something about that is inexplicably liberating.

When they appear, Genesis tucking his wing in primly as he settles out of the sky and Vincent melting from the shadows, they’re both silent for a long moment, taking Cloud in. Cloud himself just curls up tighter, tucking his arms around his legs and pulling them up close to his chest defensively.

Finally, Vincent asks quietly, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Cloud mumbles.

“Tifa said as much. And yes, it was the logical decision at the time, no matter how I may—” Vincent cuts himself off. “It was logical at the time. But why not afterwards?”

“I—I just…” Cloud shrugs helplessly. “It was in the past. But you would’ve still worried if I’d told you after, so I—it… it was in the past. Can’t we just drop it?”

Genesis makes his way to stand in front of Cloud, taking him in with narrowed eyes, and Cloud stares warily back. “If it’d truly been an isolated incident in the past, perhaps we would have considered it,” Genesis says, frowning.

“But still refused,” Vincent mutters into his cloak.

Genesis hums in agreement, but simply continues, “Regardless, it’s clearly not just in the past. Just look at you.” He tsks disapprovingly as he leans down and tips Cloud’s head up, tilting it this way and that to examine his face, but there’s something deeply concerned in the lines of his face nonetheless. “You’ve dark bags under your eyes, your skin is pallid, and your hands are trembling. If Vincent and I were to use force, you wouldn’t be able to keep us from dragging you back home with your tail tucked between your legs, I’d wager.”

Cloud stumbles to his feet, ripping his face out of Genesis’s hands. “No!”

Genesis blinks at him, looking rather startled with his hands hanging empty in the air. This time, the concern is clear on his face. “Cloud?”

“No.” Cloud shakes his head fervently. “Please.”

Genesis looks at Cloud for a long while, then sighs. “What are you hiding from, Cloud?”

Cloud looks away. “None of your business,” he mumbles at the ground.

“ … Is it one of us?” Vincent asks quietly. “Did we do something wrong?”

“What?” Cloud jerks his head back up to stare at Vincent, shocked. “No. Of course not. Why…?”

“You were perfectly willing to speak to Tifa until you realized we were there as well,” Genesis says, and even he’s beginning to look upset too. “I understand it wasn’t quite ethical of us to listen in on what you believed was a private conversation, but you never responded to either of our messages. We didn’t know what else to do.”

“Just ‘cause I didn’t answer you guys doesn’t mean anything,” Cloud insists. “I didn’t answer anyone else. Tifa’s always been a special case. You know that. You must have, to ask her to do that for you.”

“You hung up the moment you recognized my voice,” Vincent says softly. His face and voice are no less impassive than usual, but his eyes hold more raw pain than Cloud’s ever seen.

“That’s… I—you know I didn’t ever plan on you finding out what happened,” Cloud says. “I… was caught off guard.”

Vincent doesn’t push further, but Genesis takes in the way Cloud curls in on himself, the way he doesn’t meet their eyes, the way his right hand clutches protectively at the sleeve covering his left arm, a nervous tic left over from his Geostigma. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“I’m sorry,” Cloud says, still not meeting their gaze. “I know I…” He trails off. _Hurt you_ seems too personal, too intimate to say, so he settles for, “I know I made you worry. But it’s my problem, not yours. And I’m not ready to go back yet. Not now.”

Not when they’re both standing right in front of him, looking at him with so much care evident in their words and actions. It’s care that he doesn’t deserve, care that makes his heart ache for more.

Genesis sighs and folds his arms. “I see we are at an impasse. You will not come back with us, but we refuse to leave you to your own devices. Not when you’re clearly running yourself into the ground like this.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cloud mutters. “It took a whole year before things got really bad last time.”

But Genesis steamrolls straight over him. “Ah, I’ve got it!” he says. “If you refuse to come home, we will simply go with you. I do believe that resolves all our problems.”

Cloud starts, shaking his head. “No! You can’t!”

Vincent studies him, slow and sad. “So you really are running from us, then.”

Cloud shakes his head harder. “No, I—I…” But he could never really get away with lying to Vincent, regardless of how little the man pushes. “I can’t go home.”

“Yes, we’ve established that, that’s why I proposed we go with you,” Genesis says impatiently. “I don’t see what—”

“No, wait,” Vincent says, holding up a hand. “Are you… are you saying that you consider us your home, Cloud?”

Cloud shifts uncomfortably and turns red, but doesn’t answer. That, he knows, is answer enough.

“If that’s the case,” Genesis says slowly, _“can’t,_ you said. Not _won’t,_ but _can’t._ Cloud… do you, perhaps, actually want to come home?”

_Say no,_ Cloud tells himself. _You have to say no. For once in your life, lie like your life depends on it._ But what falls from his mouth next is nothing of the sort, and he blames the sleep deprivation.

“ … I do,” Cloud whispers, near soundlessly, and his entire body trembles with the weight of his admission. “More than anything.”

For a brief moment, Genesis looks just as stunned by Cloud’s admission as Cloud himself feels, but then he puffs up with something akin to frustration. “Then why? By the gods, _why—”_

But Vincent rests a hand on his arm and Genesis falls silent, both of them watching the way Cloud grips his still-shaking body tightly, trying to calm its tremors. Cloud feels he might fall apart, shatter to pieces at their feet, and he thinks he’d actually welcome it at this point, but—

“When was the last time you ate?”

“ … What?” Cloud stares up at Vincent, baffled.

“You said that you ‘forgot’ about food. When was the last time you ate?” Vincent reiterates patiently.

“I don’t… hey—!” Cloud makes an undignified yelping noise when Vincent lifts him easily, shoving uselessly against an unyielding chest. But Cloud’s barely stronger than Vincent on a good day, and his struggles accomplish nothing. “You can’t just pick people up like this, let me _go—”_

“Stop struggling,” Vincent says, “or I will be forced to carry you over my shoulder.”

Cloud struggles harder. “That’s preferable, you bastard!”

“Hm. No.” Vincent looks down at him, then shifts his arms so that Cloud’s wrists are trapped in a tight grip behind his back, careful to not let his claws dig uncomfortably into his skin. His other hand rests just over the nape of Cloud’s neck, a subtle threat to knock him out if he makes things harder. Unfortunately, it just results in Cloud’s face pressed up against Vincent’s chest.

Cloud goes limp.

“Well, what do you know, it worked,” Genesis marvels. Then, “By the goddess, Cloud, what is this beast of a motorcycle made of?”

“Fuck you,” Cloud says, muffled against the fabric of Vincent’s shirt.

“That can be arranged,” Genesis answers smoothly, and Cloud chokes, brain screeching to a halt before combusting in a useless shower of sparks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You can’t—you can’t just—” Even though he knows that Genesis doesn't know about Cloud’s feelings, that it's just a joke—it’s in Genesis’s nature to make jokes like this, in his suave-yet-assholish kind of manner—Cloud can’t keep the genuine hurt from welling up in his chest.

“Now is not the time, Genesis,” Vincent says. They fall silent.

The walk back to town is the most awkward half-hour of Cloud’s life.

-

Cloud drags his spoon through his bowl of soup as slowly as he can, studying the shiny circles of oil sitting on the surface as they dip and waver with each ripple. There's nowhere he wants to be less than here right now, but Vincent sits beside him, trapping him against the wall, and he can feel Genesis’s stare drill into the top of his ducked head from the opposite side of the booth.

“Drink your soup, Cloud,” Vincent says, and it almost sounds like an order.

Reluctantly, Cloud brings a spoonful to his lips, then swallows with difficulty. It’s not hot anymore, but it still burns on the way down, settling strangely into his empty stomach, and he grimaces. “ … There, I drank some. Can I go now?”

“Absolutely not!” Genesis sounds like he’s ready to slam his hands down on the table. He probably looks it, too, but Cloud wouldn't know. He refuses to look up. “Cloud Strife, of all the ungrateful—”

“Not now, Genesis,” Vincent says. “Cloud. Finish your soup. Then we'll talk.”

Cloud can feel the corners of his mouth tug downwards, but he sighs and complies, struggling through a few more spoonfuls. Soon he finds himself shoveling soup into his mouth ravenously; he's much hungrier than he'd anticipated.

"He will not get sick from eating like this, will he? I chose something light, but…"

Cloud freezes, mouth full, and blinks up at Vincent, who looks both amused and concerned at once.

Genesis waves a hand. "If he was unenhanced, perhaps. But SOLDIERs were made specifically for this kind of work: eat as much as you can, go out into the field and kill as many things as need killing without wasting time on things as trivial as breaks, come back and stuff your face. Rinse and repeat."

"I see," Vincent says, a faint frown creasing his brow, and Cloud knows he is worried. Genesis sounds like he speaks from experience.

"Of course, it was only over the course of a few days or so," Genesis reassures. "A week at most. Nothing like the stunts that _this_ fool's been pulling."

Cloud scowls down at his food, his spoon scraping against the bottom of his empty bowl. He's tempted to ask for more, but—

"Would you like more?" Vincent's eyes are soft and full of something Cloud cannot name, and his heart twists painfully.

"No," Cloud says, and turns away, clenching his jaw stubbornly.

Genesis makes an angry noise across the table. "By the Goddess, Cloud, you've already admitted that you want to stay! So you can take that stubborn pride of yours and _shove it."_

Cloud scowls harder. "Like you're one to be able to talk about pride."

_Deflect, deflect, deflect._ He'll regret this later, probably, but right now the only way he can see himself getting out of this situation is to drive them away, to use his words as barbs to hurt in a way he almost never tries to do.

_Channel your inner Sephiroth,_ he almost tells himself, but that's a little too real for comfort.

There's a long silence, then a sigh. "Vincent was right," Genesis says, soft and gentle in ways Cloud isn't sure is good for him. "You really are like a cornered animal when confronted."

"That's why I avoided it for so long," Vincent murmurs. "I was afraid of driving you away. But Genesis was right too. It does none of us any good to let you keep running."

Cloud snorts. "It does more good than you'd expect."

"No," Genesis says forcefully. "No, it doesn't. Cloud, we don't know what's wrong, but can't you just accept that we care for you? That we want to help you?"

Cloud bites his bottom lip hard to keep it from trembling. "Don't say stuff like that. Not when you—when I…" _When you don't mean it in the way I keep wishing you do. Not when it makes me hope so painfully like this._ He shakes his head. "Never mind."

"I just—I just don't understand!" Genesis exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. "How is it that no matter what we say or do, all you do is shut us out?"

"I'm just like that," Cloud says, spitting the words out like bitter poison. "Ask Tifa. She'll tell you. You're better off without me."

"No," Vincent says sharply. "You were. You tried to be. But that was when you thought you were going to die; you thought that if you isolated yourself from others, they would not mourn you. You thought to spare their feelings." Vincent pauses for a moment, then continues quietly, "You thought wrong. We all thought you'd learned that.

"So this leads back to what I said before. You're hiding something from us specifically, something you think will hurt us. What's wrong, Cloud?"

"Look, I—" Cloud sighs in defeat, running a hand through his hair. "I know you guys were trying to keep it a secret, but Yuffie already told me what she saw. And I'm happy for you guys, I really am. There's no one I can think of who'd be better for each other. It's just—I just…" _What if I spend so much time longing for what was never meant to be mine that you get sick of me and leave me behind, like you should have a long time ago?_ "It'll take some time for the rest of me to catch up," Cloud finishes weakly, unconsciously bringing a hand up to clutch at his chest. "But I will, eventually. I swear, I—I will." _I have to._

There's a long silence.

"So you're saying," Genesis says, slow and disbelieving, "that you've been running away and neglecting your health for months because you were _jealous?_ That’s it?”

Cloud flushes. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds dumb, but—I mean… yeah. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you just _say something?"_ Genesis looks ready to explode from sheer frustration. "By the Goddess, you and Vincent are just exactly the same, aren't you? What did you think would happen if you told us? We wouldn't have _mocked_ you, who do you think we are? Is your opinion of us truly so low? Of all the things—"

"No," Cloud protests, wanting to erase the hurt hiding behind the anger on Genesis's face. "It's not like that, I—"

"Then _what?_ Why won't you trust us?"

"Genesis," Vincent murmurs, and Genesis falls silent. "Let him speak."

They both turn to look at Cloud expectantly, and he shifts uncomfortably. "I didn't say anything because you… uh, I overheard you guys talking at Marlene's birthday party about how if I didn’t agree to your relationship you might not—well…” Cloud chews his lower lip, debating how to best word things. “You’d be able to tell right away that I—that there was something wrong. But I’d never forgive myself if I was the reason you guys didn’t get together, so…”

“So you thought,” Genesis says slowly, “that because you’re a terrible liar, we’d realize that you had objections to our hypothetical relationship and just… break up? Just like that? You didn’t think that we’d realize something was wrong when you _disappeared for months?”_

“I mean, I was surprised too, but that's what Vincent said, isn't it? He should have ignored how I feel, but he’s too nice for his own good. And I didn’t think…” Cloud’s voice drops to a mumble. “I didn’t think it would last this long. Feeling like this.”

“So you thought it would go away and everything would be okay again?” Genesis sounds more and more incredulous by the word.

Cloud sighs. "I know, it wasn't right of me to feel jealous. I shouldn’t have—"

"That's not—!" Genesis cuts himself off this time, but he looks angry again.

Vincent sighs and continues for him, "That's not what we're upset about, Cloud. But that’s another reason why you ran, isn’t it? You were punishing yourself because you thought your emotions were wrong."

Cloud shrugs. “I mean they are, aren’t they? I had no right to be jealous. You made it clear that you didn’t want a relationship with me. But Genesis is different—and that’s good, you know, he’s helped you open up a lot more than—mmph!”

Cloud makes a surprised noise when Vincent surges forward and presses a hard kiss to his lips, swallowing the words as they fall from his mouth. It doesn’t last very long, maybe a second or two, but Vincent cradles the back of Cloud’s head like it’s something precious when he pulls away.

“I wanted,” he says, voice hoarse. “I did. For the first time since Lucrecia, I wanted so much. You are the one who made me dare to want. But I told myself no, that these feelings, the pain they caused—I told myself I deserved it. A just punishment. Because why would someone like you ever want me back?”

Cloud’s mouth drops open. “I—what? But aren’t you and Genesis—”

“Hush,” Vincent says, and presses his forehead against Cloud’s, eyes intent. “You’re right. Genesis is different. He is the one who made me dare to _try._ He came up with the proposal of the three of us together, and even reassured me that if you declined he would accept if I decided to continue to interact platonically with him, because I'd never for a moment imagined resuming any sort of romantic life without _you_ in it, Cloud. That's what the conversation you overheard was about.

"But before we could speak to you, you were gone without a word. And as the weeks stretched on—it was another punishment, I thought, for being so presumptuous as to reach for more than I deserved. But Genesis was persistent—we would wait for you first, help you resolve whatever was troubling you, and ask when the time was right. And if you’d left because of us, we would simply have to accept what was due. Although I doubt Genesis would have stopped fighting for you so easily, even then.” Vincent’s gaze flicks to Genesis briefly, amused.

“For me?” Cloud says weakly. “Like… all three of us? Together?”

Genesis sniffs. “Yes, dear, all three of us together. I did not brave that blasted shovel talk from Tifa Lockhart herself for nothing.”

“Tifa did what?” Cloud’s mind turns in circles.

“That night at the bar. AVALANCHE’s reunion.” Genesis looks mildly aggravated. “She told me that you two weren’t together yet, despite all appearances, and implied some very dangerous things towards my personage if I were to split you apart.”

“Terrifying,” Cloud mutters, glad that Tifa is—mostly—on his side. Cloud feels Vincent’s chest rumble in amused agreement.

Genesis tosses his hair back. “Of course, I am not one to be intimidated. I simply responded in turn with my plans to court you both.”

“Us both,” Cloud repeats quietly, still turning the concept over and over in his mind. “Is that—that’s a thing you can do? I mean, I’ve heard of threesomes for sex and stuff, but—”

“You’re new to the concept, I suppose?” Genesis says. “I ought to have surmised from your background. Backwater country boy who never had much time for sexual experimentation—yes, I’m not surprised.”

_“Banora’s_ not exactly population central either," Cloud says with a huff. "But… yeah. I was kind of stuck in a tank for a while, and then fighting an asshole with a god complex, and then—well. Yeah. An explanation would be nice.”

“It’s quite similar to a standard relationship between a couple in many ways,” Genesis says. “Communication, mutual respect, a willingness to adapt, equal give-and-take—simply with more than one other person, now, with no playing favorites.” He pauses, something almost like nervousness passing over his face. “The way you feel about Vincent has been, of course, long established, despite Vincent’s own… inhibitions. But if you do not feel anything towards myself—”

“Don’t be stupid,” Cloud says, and twists in Vincent’s hold to grasp Genesis’s sleeve and tug him closer. “I—part of the reason why I ran…” He trails off, turning a bit red, before mumbling, “I thought it wasn’t allowed. Or something.”

Genesis sighs, but leans over the table, meeting them both in a strange sort of half-hug. “Bundles of repressed guilt and self-recrimination, the two of you are. What am I ever going to do with you both, I have no idea…”

“You could take us both out on a date,” Cloud suggests, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth.

Genesis gasps exaggeratedly. “Why, how forward of you, Cloud Strife! And here I thought Vincent and I would have to walk you through the intricacies of polyamory.”

"So you've both… done stuff like this before?" Cloud says, suddenly feeling out of his depth again.

"Yes, with Angeal and Sephiroth," Genesis says, looking a tad sorrowful. "A lifetime ago."

"Lucrecia and… Hojo," Vincent admits, mouth twisting in distaste at the name. "Briefly. _Very_ briefly."

"Don't fret, dear,” Genesis says, running a soothing hand along Cloud's arm. “All it means is that we'll be able to better guide each other through this."

"But first," Vincent says, hands falling to rest on Cloud's shoulders instead. “Cloud, I recognize now that in my attempts to hide my own pining, I was blind and pushed you away. I hurt you. I had no idea…” He shakes his head. “I apologize, Cloud. Deeply.”

Cloud shakes his head fervently. “No, it’s not your fault. Didn’t I just spend the past few months pushing you guys away too? I shouldn’t have run away. If I’d just told you how I was feeling… maybe this all wouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry. Especially to you, Genesis. I understand if you're angry."

Genesis sighs. "It may seem black-and-white in hindsight, but you had genuine reason to believe there would be negative consequences to your confession at the time. Maybe if I’d been less cryptic… but never mind. A smart little bird once told me ‘it’s in the past’, did he not? While I still have my… frustrations with your and Vincent's lack of communication, after hearing the full story, I can also understand your reluctance in the face of uncertainty. Besides, it's an integral part of who you both are. I was already aware when I chose to pursue you. And I still chose to love and accept you, flaws and all."

Cloud chokes. _"Lo—"_

"We'll still work on it regardless," Genesis says briskly. "I might actually start going gray if an incident as disastrous as this ever happens again. But of course, that is precisely what I am here for. Where ever would you two be without me?"

"Hopelessly floundering, of course," Vincent says deadpan as Cloud buries his face in his cloak, still combusting over the l-word.

"Quick on the uptake as ever, love," Genesis coos, patting Vincent's cheek. "I suppose I will pay for our date after all."

"No, I lost the bet," Vincent says, a tad rueful. "I will rightfully pay."

"Bet?" Cloud says, still muffled against Vincent's chest.

Genesis smirks. "A bet on who would steal a kiss from you first."

"You _bet_ on that?"

“All in good fun, of course,” Genesis says, waving a hand airily. “Besides, it was supposed to only come into play _after_ you’d accepted our offer.”

“I… lost my patience,” Vincent says, sounding almost embarrassed. “My apologies.”

_“You_ lost your patience?” Cloud lifts his head from its hidden position to give Vincent an incredulous look. Vincent is one of the most patient people Cloud knows.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know, with Vincent restraining himself so much around you previously,” Genesis says. “But after direct confirmation of his feelings being reciprocated, combined with your self-deprecating words… Well, you’ll soon learn that though Vincent may have the patience of a saint, his restrained passions burn like hellfire beneath.”

“How poetic of you,” Vincent murmurs.

“You love me for it.”

“ … I suppose I do, don’t I?”

Cloud buries his face in Vincent’s cloak again, cheeks burning. Their casual intimacy—part of him dares to hope he might be included in it someday, but another part isn’t sure if he’d survive if he’s already so flustered just sitting here secondhand.

Vincent seems to sense Cloud’s uncertainty and leans down to press a gentle kiss to the top of Cloud’s head, expressing what he’d just said before, but without words.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Genesis says, quiet and fond as he reaches over the table to run his fingers through Cloud’s hair, and Cloud finds himself leaning into the touch.

Above him, Cloud feels Vincent nod, then look down at him in askance. “Cloud?”

Cloud presses a kiss to the sharp edge of Vincent’s jaw, then to the elegant line of Genesis’s hand. “Yeah,” he says. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap for now! i've been debating on adding certain scenes from other people's points of view (specifically genesis, vincent, tifa, etc.) + elaborating a bit on the aftermath in a follow-up fic, any thoughts on that?
> 
> feel free to drop suggestions in a comment! otherwise, thank you for taking the time to read the whole way through, i really appreciate it <3


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